Mass Effect: Spearhead
by Twisted Platypus
Summary: What is a legend? Commander Shepard is a legend. But with Shepard in the forefront, what was pushed to the back? Sometimes a legend is hushed up, overwritten, cast out. So what makes a legend? Perhaps it's simply a part of who you are. Elsewhere Fic.
1. Pentateuch: Law

A/N: Disclaimers first, I guess. I do not own anything to do with Mass Effect, which is the intellectual property of Bioware. I'd like to though... Oh well. About the story: This is a chronicle of Meena'Ral nar Rayya, Marine of the Migrant Fleet, and his life through the events of the Mass Effect Trilogy. In time he'll meet with the cast of the main games... but this is his story, not another retelling of Shepard's (thank god). I hope you enjoy, please review, tell me what I can do better, because me being a better writer is better for everyone! If you're reading all of this, thank you. The story begins during Meena'Ral's Pilgrimage, one year before Shepard's iconic mission to Eden Prime...

* * *

**MASS EFFECT: SPEARHEAD**

**PENTATEUCH**

**ONE: LAW**

* * *

Meena'Ral nar Rayya sighed as the sensor board pinged quietly in front of him. The console was worn and aged, pitted with decades of rust and the damage of careless operators. It wasn't even holographic; at least if it was, the circuits had failed a long time ago. Not that it mattered. Hologram or archaic physical interface, the information was the same. The rules of the Pilgrimage were clear, and every Quarian knew them by heart. The gift you brought back had to be something you found, under no circumstances could it be something stolen or without honor Well, nothing stolen at least. But he had been raised by his father with the second commandment, and to him it was just as important as the first. He chuckled a little at that; as if any non-Quarian would believe that if he told them. Vagrants and thieves, that was the Quarian stereotype. Not that he cared. In his book, being underestimated was a good thing. At least, that was what his mother had taught him, nearly a year ago now. From behind the opaque light-blue visor, Ral grimaced at the memory. If there was one good thing about leaving everything he'd ever known it was getting away from that reprehensible witch.

His Pilgrimage was three months old now, the death of his father three years. It hadn't come as a devastating shock, he remembered. Death in the Quarian Marines was to be expected. Even so, the wound remained, festering and slowly eating through his convictions. The first time he'd stolen to keep from starving he'd been wracked with guilt for days. Partially at the moral implications of the theft, but more shame at perpetuating the notion of Quarians being nothing but petty thieves and scavengers. Once they'd been just like everyone else, with a planet to call home, rather than a crowded Liveship. Gravity tugged at him here reassuringly, not like the unsettling artificial gravity of Mass Effect cores.

He looked up at the sky, wondering where the Migrant Fleet was right now. Home, or what passed for it. Above him, a gas giant filled most of the sky, along with a pair of moons slowly sliding across the pale, pale sky. Harsh methane winds whipped around him, carrying sleet and snow, but that had been the case for the four days since his arrival and he ignored it. His suit protected him flawlessly anyway. His suit, for which he had his blighted mother to thank. She was cunning, certainly. She knew that anything else she'd given him, he would have thrown away in front of her. Suit upgrades were the one thing that no Quarian squandered, no matter what their origin.

Absently, he swept the board clear of accumulated detritus, before the winds could cover it again. Meena'Ral was shorter than the average Quarian, but he was thick, and strong. His envirosuit, heavily customized as all Quarian suits were, was black and brown, with a tinted pale blue visor. A cloth wrap protected the sensitive electronics at the back of his head from being covered in the snow, anchoring itself around his upper body. A worn pistol sat at his side, and the Quarian's fingers absently drummed a pattern against its smooth grip.

The board pinged again, drawing him from the fog of memories and back to the problem he didn't want to confront. A while back he'd decided that the best way to complete his Pilgrimage was to find an untapped world, ripe for the Fleet's expert miners. Obviously, someone else had the same idea. All that effort for nothing. On the console before him, too primitive for VIs and holograms, there was a cluster of life-signs charted and cataloged neatly.

The life-readings that could only be other Quarians pulsed vibrantly on his console, part of an old mining rig that had been left behind by whatever dead corporation had surveyed this world. Human, by the looks of it, and while he frowned on the newcomer's brash arrogance, he had to admit that their audacity and fervor was laudable. He could bare think of another species that would even consider surveying this frigid moon, and doing so without the advanced assistance of semi-sentient computers would have been virtually impossible. He'd thought Quarians knew about building things to last; he'd been astonished that this console, buried by decades of sub-zero winds, still worked. But in the end he wasn't surprised they'd left; the ground beneath him was dead and cracking, long-dead foliage buried beneath a thick layer of permafrost. Although the survey had been positive, the potential gain from the rare materials wouldn't have even covered the cost of getting the full-scale mining rigs out here, in the back of the Traverse. He sighed again. If the life reading had been Batarian or Vorcha or even another Human party, the Flotilla might have enough time to mine the system before any interested parties could do anything about it. But another Quarian was a different matter altogether. For the fifth time, he ran the problem through his head. The reading could only be one of his own. Any other group would arrive in more numbers, and with more equipment. When he'd landed he hadn't seen any new emplacements from orbit, and there hadn't been any landings since then. Another Pilgrimage Quarian was the only possibility.

Amazing, really, how quickly a good mood could go sour. Three days. Three days spent fixing this decrepit outpost, finding some power cells that had a lick of power left, rewiring consoles, and occasionally just punching the damn computer into functionality. All for nothing. Just because one Quarian had gotten here a few days before he had. Force of habit had driven him to be ready to leave at a moment's notice, so he didn't even have the ability to master himself as he gathered up his few possessions. Food, water, a few credits, spare parts, his pistol. He hadn't come across any aggressive wildlife on this frozen world, but you never knew. He'd learned to expect surprises.

Still, even if he was irritated there was no reason he should leave without speaking a few words to his fellow Quarian. He tapped his omnitool in distaste, holding off as long as he could before his rote-learned rules overcame his reluctance.

"This is Meena'Ral nar Rayya, congratulations on recovering such an impressive Pilgrimage gift," he bit off, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

His omnitool crackled with static, in between occasional bouts of silence. He frowned. If he was being ignored, then he would have just gotten silence, not this odd cadence. The static came again, buzzing on and off. Ral counted the screeches, a dull sense of anxiety beginning to pulse through his body. Along with the rules of the Pilgrimage, there was another thing all Quarians knew: Rannoch Pulse Code. Antiquated and outmoded, certainly, but hard to block with modern jamming technology. Not that there would be any reason for such sophisticated technology on a backwater wasteland like this, but there was another reason that Pulse Code might be used; if the other Quarian was unable to speak. The signal cut off altogether, lost in the rising wind. Suddenly apprehensive, Ral transferred the location of the slightly muffled readings to his omnitool and ran.

The mining platform was only a short distance away from the main facility, but it was still a distance intended to be traversed with a vehicle. Next to the facility's main door was a Systems Alliance-made drop shuttle, which he'd first assumed belonged to the other Quarian. Now, on second look, his suspicions aroused, there were some signs that there was more than Quarians present. His visor HUD tagged several active power circuits inside the building, and active air intakes constantly circulating the air inside around the facility. Quarians wouldn't have activated those; their envirosuits made such systems pointless. On the other hand, there were no guards outside, no kind of alarm system he could detect. He forced himself to take a deep breath, calming himself down.

Perhaps the air circulators were linked to the facility's power. After all, there was no reason to get them working, but no reason to shut them down, either. The reason for the murky signals he'd transferred from the console had been because of the blizzard, hadn't they? Now he could only detect one living heat source inside the facility. Despite all his arguments to rationalize the situation, his sense of foreboding remained; why only one heat source now, when he'd tagged nearly half a dozen before? No to mention the use of Pulse Code. Still, his hand crept down to the butt of his gun, feeling the comforting touch of the metal. Holding his breath, he swiped his hand across the door's opening circuits, and it screeched open with the tortured cream of tortured metal. He cursed. So much for subtle.

It didn't even open completely, either. If the humans had done a magnificent job of constructing their extreme-weather field terminals, surely their doors should be better. He slipped inside, trying to be as swift as possible. The old, rusted door had blown any attempt he had at stealth, which left speed as his only weapon. In fact, he was so preoccupied with the what if's that, blinded by the white blizzard, he ran straight into the airlock's inner door with a metallic _clang_.

Ral swore, more at himself than anything else. There was no breathable atmosphere on this world unless you were a Volus; of course they'd have an airlock on a human facility. He'd spent so long among his own people that he forgot most species didn't live in protective suits. There was a good thing about the airlock; sound probably wouldn't have gotten through the heavy door, but the impact of helmet on inner door might have been noticeable. He hit the inner door's opening mechanism, but the plate metal refused to budge. Of course. The outer door had jammed, and no sensible airlock would be able to open both doors at once. He needed another way in.

The second airlock he tried was more forgiving, sliding open meekly without complaint, and closed behind him. The inner door opened equally simply, and Ral stepped cautiously into the gunmetal grey corridor. Sitting in a chair, looking bored, a human in full combat armor slumped to his left. For a second, neither Quarian nor Human moved. Ral's visor had no such impediments, immediately identifying the human's armor and weapons. Light Onyx armour, and the poorly maintained rifle he cradled in his hands an M-8 Avenger. Perhaps contrary to expectations, the human's armor was white, a few shades lighter than the walls. A camouflage pattern, or a uniform? There were no battle scars or war wounds left on the plating as testament to prior battles, though a design on the human's shoulder suggested he was part of a group of some kind, and not acting alone. Mercenaries? Then time unfroze, and the Avenger's black barrel began to sweep around towards him. Well. That told him just about everything he needed to know. Ral whipped his left hand forward, orange omnitool glaring against the grey walls as he unleashed a powerful surge of electric current through the human's body. Overload was designed to cripple synthetic opponents, but it should scramble comm equipment and shock the human equally well at such close range.

The human had chosen his position poorly; he was too close to the airlock and nobody on guard duty should ever be sitting down. Ral punched the human hard in the gut as he tried to rise, kicked the gun from his hands and shoved him to the floor, aiming his pistol against his head. Helmet or not, at this range the slug would punch through like a Thresher Maw through paper. The scuffle was only a few seconds, and silence again reigned supreme. The human looked up in askance, as if wondering how a Quarian had overpowered him so swiftly. Ral knew the look; it was the same one that appeared on most species that underestimated the dextro-amino race's physical ability. Just because their immune systems were withered and weak everyone assumed Quarians were physically frail? Quarians were no less physically able than humans and asari, if not quite as capable as turians. Never curse the stupidity of an enemy, his mother had once told him, if there is a chance you can use it against him.

Like all things his mother had said he instinctively loathed the words, but that didn't make them any less true. No-one came running to the human's aid, and anger coursed through Ral's body. The pistol in his hand quivered with his wrath, but he couldn't afford to shout. He tore the human's helmet off, eyeing the greasy stubble around the biped's mouth with distaste. The end of the man's hair was singed and his head lolled limply as the last of the charge dissipated from his body. So. Not compliant, simply unconscious.

Ral slapped him across the face, bringing him back to full awareness. That must be why his reading had been obscured, he realised. The amour would contain enough heat to stop them from showing up on the decrepit scanner, at least most of the time. If there were human mercanaries here, what were they doing? This was such a backwater that it wasn't any good as a safehouse, and it was too inhospitable to be a good base of operations. It wasn't even close to major shipping lanes. "Bosh'tet," he cursed. He'd gone and announced his presence on an unencrypted channel, although only another Quarian would have known the frequency. Hopefully. Besides, he'd gotten Rannoch Pulse Code in response. Were the mercenaries here to interrogate a prisoner? "Bosh'_tet._"

* * *

There was a sharp _crack_ as the bat cracked across the Quarian's arm, and only the brown suit the dextro wore prevented the blood from splattering on the floor. The prisoner screamed, and the three mercenaries present watched the pain-filled eyes with satisfaction.

"We'll ask again, alien," the interrogator said. He was a batarian, his skin an odd shade of red-brown. Unlike the rest of the mercs, he wore little armor leaving his leering four eyes bare. His voice was harsh, but almost bored. Completely blasé to the spectacle of violence and pain in front of him. "What is the verbal code for safe entry to the Migrant Fleet?"

Through the haze of pain, the Quarian locked eyes with his tormentor. If he wasn't tied to the chair, he'd have collapsed hours ago. But his spirit, or at least his desire to protect his home, was stronger still. "I'll never tell you anything," he spat through the broken remnants of his faceplate. Shards of the broken visor were spilled out over the floor and in his lap, but a few of the sharper shards had punctured his suit. He could almost feel his strength leaving him, his life ebbing out. It had been hours since the signal had come in, but he didn't know what else he could do.

"It's Benis'Zaal, isn't it?" The leader spoke for the first time, removing his helmet as he did so. This one was a turian, with white facial tattoos that only served to make his black eyes stand out even more. His captive glared back at him defiantly, but the turian's eyes were cold and calculating, his flanging voice perfectly patient. "So furious. One wonders why he attempts to waste our time with these fruitless rejections. You will help us in the end."

His armor was off-white like his silent companion the last of the room's occupants, layered with bullet impacts and what looked to be clusters of shrapnel. However, at the same time, it looked like none of the injuries had been severe enough to impair his ability. That might be troublesome. Armor with no scars and lots of scars were both good; they belonged to a soldier with no experience, or one who didn't know how to duck. Mild scarring, like this one, was an understated message. This one was a formidable warrior. He turned at the end of his pacing circuit, and Benis caught the insignia on the leader's shoulder. A black sword with an elaborate guard, point down. The decal meant nothing to him, but it was better than focusing on his shattered body.

He began to pace before his captive, tapping his fingers annoyingly against his helmet as he did so. "You see, I've had to pay our mutual friend here-" he indicated the interrogator, who hefted the bat with obvious relish "-a great deal of money for his services. But unfortunately the situation has changed, and the slow attempt has lost its appeal." His pacing took him in and out of the captive's line of sight, and the torturer moved back in gleefully.

"I'll begin the more… intensive procedures then." Well, he was a _committed_ sadist, if nothing else.

"I'm afraid not." The shot rang out, and the torturer dropped to the floor, his kinetic barriers overcome by proximity and sheer destructive power. From his restraints, Benis could only see the result of the leader's shooting as the Batarian rolled over, revealing a large jagged hole in the centre of his four eyes. Dark yellow blood spattered the captive Quarian, droplets splashing against his bare face. The touch was so foreign that Zaal's skin crawled, and he retched instinctively. The leader glanced at his pistol with a sigh, already venting heat. Benis swallowed. To overheat in one shot meant some serious mods, and he didn't want to be on the end of them. "Hiring interrogators is such costly business," the Turian lamented. "Not to mention the unpleasantness of dealing with such disgusting miscreants. I have formed the belief that it is, in the end, more practical to simply learn the art yourself. Unfortunately, as I said, we have quite run out of time. And we cannot afford mistakes. Our employers are running out of patience."

Benis couldn't keep the surprise from breaking out on his face at the words, and he couldn't master himself quickly enough to hide the expression. Quarians seldom had reason to practice their ability to hide their expressions. The mercenaries who had taken him had their own master?

"So you see," the Turian continued on, blithely ignoring both the fresh corpse at his feet and Zaal's surprise. "Your reluctance presents no problem for us. Either way, we will be well rewarded. Should you capitulate, you will be spared." His pacing stopped, and he lent down into Benis'Zaal's face. His grey mandibles clicked audibly as he bit off each and every syllable. "We do not bother wasting resources on the useless. Even the energy necessary to pull the trigger." His voice was so cold, suddenly so callous, that Benis almost believed him. Almost.

"Never."

The mercenary leader sighed, drew back from the retrained captive. "Then our business here is done. Such a shame that, by his own negligence, our interrogator restrained you so poorly."

Benis looked up, confused. He could barely move any of his limbs a millimeter which, considering his broken arm and hands, was probably not a bad thing. Besides, since when had batarians ever failed at tying anything up? Festering things were natural barbarians.

"Such a sad thing," his jailer continued, "that our captive managed to free himself and kill his tormentor. Yes, so sad, that the only option we had left was to kill the prisoner. In self-defense, of course."

A part of the puzzle fell into place in the captive Quarian's mind. That was why they'd brought in an outsider. A third-party scapegoat. They'd never truly expected to get the codes, just swindle their employer. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He felt the Turian place the modded gun in his hand; for all its power he couldn't do anything with it, not with shattered fingers and a manacled hand. Just another brick in the false wall of evidence.

Benis'Zaal nar Quib Quib sighed. At least, he told himself, looking down the barrel of the leader's second gun, the Fleet is safe. For the first time, the Turian smiled. "It's been fun," he said cruelly.

* * *

Ral hissed in vexation. The human was annoyingly resistant to his own line of questioning. The human smiled condescendingly at him through a mass of crisped hair and grease, as if knowing his quandary. When no answer was forthcoming, he cracked the butt of his gun against the human's unprotected face, and he fell like a sack of bricks. Bosh'tet. What, did he think that shields would save him from a gun butt to the face? Idiot.

Still, he hadn't gotten his answer. An Alliance shuttle like that one could hold anywhere between two to eight men, and as much as he wanted to save his fellow Quarian, he wasn't a great fan of suicide missions.

_And_, that traitorous voice told him, _if he dies, you can take this world as your own_. Fire ignited behind hidden eyes, and Ral strode towards the command center of the small outpost. Screw that. As if he could ever do anything so underhanded, so treacherous, as that. That would be something his mother would do. His lip curled in distaste. He would free this idiot who'd gotten himself kidnapped, or he would damn well die trying. That was how a real Quarian would do it. "Keelah se'lai." He murmured the phrase to himself softly, and pushed forward.

* * *

_**Firaxi Prime Mining Survey, Teragus Mining Corporation, 2167**_

_In-depth analysis of the star Firaxi and its orbiting planets has confirmed the presence of notable deposits of palladium and Iridium spread throughout several planets and their moons, notably the third moon of the seventh planet. However, due to the great distribution of the minerals across many celestial bodies, the overall projected short-term yield is low. Mineral deposits are located further below the crust than previously thought in many cases, and in one example are beyond even the reach of Mass Effect-enhanced mining technology. In addition, the system is remote, and thus would require a significant investment to transport equipment and personnel, and potentially hire a mercenary company to protect our equipment. Should mining be undertaken, our personnel would need to be equipped to deal with the freezing temperature and methane atmosphere of many planets in the system, an expensive project requiring potential negotiations with non-human entities. However, the remote location of the system encourages exclusivity, as well as proximity to the projected growth of human colonies throughout the Terminus Systems. We recommend that the corporation not invest any resources in conducting mining operations in the Firaxi System, but that the location of the system be tagged for potential future operations._


	2. Pentateuch: Gideon

A/N: Disclaimers again: I own nothing to do with Mass Effect in any of its forms, which is the province of Bioware. As always, support a writer who fumbles in the dark, we have absolutely no idea how anyone feels about our stuff. Unfortunately, I haven't found out how to read minds yet. So yeah, please drop a review if you've got a spare few seconds, even if all you've got are criticisms. Sometimes the best reviews are the harsh ones! Anyway, thus continues the story of Meena'Ral and his Pilgrimage...

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**TWO: GIDEON**

* * *

Ral's voice sounded loudly in his own helmet, as if he was in vacuum. Every mundane sound like the sliding of cloth, the tread of feet and the muted hum of the air cyclers was still there, but the tension and anticipation in his body shut out everything but the sound of his lungs pumping. Torn between the need for speed and stealth, his eyes jumped like roulette balls behind his visor, feeding him an uninterrupted stream of data he barely had the faculty to decode. Given how run down this facility was, it was unlikely that the mercenaries occupying the planet had bothered to do anything more than activate the power and ventilation. If that was true, then there would be no troops stationed at the main control room, simply because there was no need to maintain more advanced systems.

The best place to find his enemies was then the lounge, if these men were anything like the off-duty soldiers he'd seen around the galaxy. Drawing on dregs of knowledge of human architecture, he delved further into the rotting facility, ignoring any hardlocked doors. There was only one shuttle of mercenaries, so there couldn't be many more foes between him and the captive. Still part of him screamed at him to turn and run, leave now, not risk his life in some suicidal rescue attempt. Every Quarian was valuable; his old lessons came to him. He scowled. Yes, every Quarian was essential. That was why he was still here.

Ahead of him, something very faint graced his alert ears. Irregular vibration, coming from the room to his left. Conversation. He gripped his pistol a little tighter, calming his thundering heart as much as he could. He could hear bits of words now, coming from the other side of a single door. One of the voices flanged as it spoke, the second slower, more modulated, a third faster and high-pitched. Turians and humans working together? He'd thought there was still the Relay 314 Incident between them. Not to mention a salarian. Crime made for strange bedfellows indeed.

"-bout time now-"

"-ock d… stuck out there?"

Ral strained to hear, pressing the side of his helmet against the metal.

"- swear! No matter what I do…"

"No-one'd be stupid enough… all seven of us…"

"…just a malfunction…"

"Paranoid… stupid rookie."

"-not ready to… be a Saber."

"-f it'll shut you up… go check."

_They're talking about the airlock_, Ral realized The one that had failed to open, and was now unable to be opened from either side. If he didn't act fast, then evidence of his presence would be found. He opened the portal, seeing the three mercenaries spread out around the lounge. One human, gesticulating in front of the couch, which contained one armored turian. Leaning against the wall, on the far side of the room was a salarian, arms crossed in irritation. As one, all three heads turned to him, and Ral went into action. One arm went up, aiming his pistol towards the closest target, the human. From this close range, there was no way he could miss. A good thing too, considering how much power his minuscule pistol could put out. Even pulling the trigger as fast as he could, the shots fizzled out against the mercenary's shields, leaving him unscathed even as he gaped at the attacking Quarian.

Predictably, the Turian was the fastest to react, instantly diving for his assault rifle the moment the metal door opened. Ral's second hand tracked him, unleashing a Sabotage on the metallic alien's rifle just as the talon depressed the trigger. The gun emitted an electronic scream, venting a plume of superheated steam as it overheated. The scalding vent bypassed the turian's shields and burned against his grey armor, driving him behind the lounge's kitchen bench.

The salarian made a dive for his own pistol, on the table next to the turian's rifle. Ral continued to focus his fire on the human, even as the mercenary dove backwards, trying to put the couch between him and the relentless if weak gunfire. His shields failed with a snap as Ral continued to press the attack, wincing as the salarian finally returned fire, watching the shield indicator in his HUD dip dramatically. Even with his shields, the heavy rounds felt like hammers judiciously applied directly to his skin. He pumped one last shot at the retreating human, slipping back into the corridor as his shields dropped to a flashing _18%_.

* * *

In the interrogation room, the expanding pool of batarian blood reached Benis'Zaal's bound feet, but all of his attention was captured by the pristine gunbarrel aimed at the small space between his eyes. The black avian eyes looked down with satisfaction, not anger at the failed interrogation. Then the turian's head cocked sideways, mandibles vibrating as he tutted in annoyance. For a few seconds, he listened silently, before flexing his headplates. Benis didn't quite know what kind of expression that corresponded to, but he hoped it was one less inclined to shoot him.

"Marcus," he said, and the silent human, a mere observer until now, rose easily from his chair.

The Turian gave a wintry smile. "A rescue, is it? A futile attempt. But perhaps this one will be more generous in the face of our questions."

The smile dropped, leaving only the dead eyes above a scowling set of sharp teeth. Benis swallowed. "And he has injured some of my soldiers. His punishment will be forthcoming, but happily I can give you at least part of yours now."

He snatched the modded pistol from Benis'Zaal's limp hand, hitting the broken bones with a rough fist. The pistol went into its place on the Turian's waist, the second sidearm spun idly in three digits. Abruptly the pistol stopped spinning and the leader pulled the trigger, sending a shot through Benis's leg, envirosuit immediately bowing to the force of the bullet. Still constrained by the chair, the captive howled, watching his blood leak out of the ugly hole.

* * *

His weapon heat was dangerously close to forced venting, and the three mercenaries had recovered from his surprise assault. Real combat was nothing like any simulation Ral had ever been in. His hands trembled; his thoughts came in a whirling vortex that overwhelmed his rational judgement. His heart thundered in his ears, drowning out the sound of three armed mercenaries stalking towards him. He backed away from the door, waiting for his shields to recharge. He'd overheard that there were seven mercenaries, and he was committed now. He couldn't leave, even if he wanted to. Seven, one of which he'd already accounted for, perhaps two if his last shot at the human had found him.

The salarian interrupted his thoughts, sliding through the doorway, pistol in a two-handed grip blasting away at Ral's already battered shields. Ral threw out an Overload in desperation, blasting the Sur'Kesh native with a powerful surge of electricity. His shields dropped with a sharp _crack_, and Ral saw his eyes widen even through the helmet as Ral's own sidearm traced a bead on his head. Ral's eyes snapped up at the second figure through the door, the Turian, assault rifle successfully vented and firing. The cascade of shots impacted against Ral's barriers like an avalanche, increasing in cadence as the turian switched from wild suppressing fire to aimed bursts. Ral swayed against the lethal volley, shields failing but not gone yet. With the speed of a striking venom-hunter, he re-aimed and perforated the Salarian's helmet-less visage with a pair of shots. One less.

Salarian dead, Ral leapt to the side, ducking behind the corner and finding some relief from the turian's blistering fire. His shield meter flashed a glaring blue-and-green _0%_ in the corner of his visor, and his fingers traced a line cut along the edge of his visor's structure, hot even to his suited fingers. Too close. His enemy had to know just how vulnerable Ral was, and be spurred on by his companion's death, no doubt. He continued to back up, not nearly reaching the next corner before the turian charged around the bend, helmet on, rifle blazing on full auto, soon to find range.

Ral popped off another Sabotage, halting the Turian's assault, if only for a few seconds. He heard the roar of pain and anger at superheated steam vented from the gun for a second time, finding its way into the smallest of gaps and seals, melting flexible mesh and searing everything it touched. Ral didn't attack, instead using his reprieve to escape, shields virtually non-existent. He scrambled around the corner, taking note of his omnitool's efficiency level. It was a crappy model and a hand-me-down, such constant, high-power use was wearing it down much faster than he would like. Soon his Overloads and Sabotages would lose their kick, and he'd be completely vulnerable. Well then, one last throw of the dice.

He planted his feet, stopped completely just around the next bend, out of sight. The turian rushed on, losing his discipline in his anger and haste. A shameful lack of levelheadedness for the militaristic race, but if he was a good turian he wouldn't have left the Hierarchy for a pack of mercenaries. Ral swung, knocking the assault rifle out of the way, before jamming as strong an Overload he could make directly into the turian's body, bypassing the shields with a clenched three-fingered fist, jolting him with charge and knocking him down. Pistol out, he drilled shot after shot into the convulsing merc's torso, until the rounds punched through his barriers, weakened armor and impacted on flesh.

Silence reigned, somehow even more oppressive than the rolling roar of gunfire. No more stealth opportunities from now on; even a sedated elcor would have known something was wrong by now. Of the seven Saber mercenaries, he had knocked one out, and shot three. Three left. He holstered his own gun, picking up the dead salarian's pistol. Heavier and far more lethal, this was the kind of gun he'd wanted at the beginning of the fighting. The human he'd shot earlier was dead, his last lucky shot punching through his vulnerable neck guard. His omnitool was military-grade as well, better than the hand-me-down manufacturing tool Ral had to make do with.

He ripped out the dead human's tool, using it to replace his own. His comms flickered, and bursts of static again filtered through the airwaves, followed by a laboured voice.

"Meena…Ral… this is Benis'Zaal nar… Quib Quib. Leader and one other… coming for you. Four in base… Two with me… gone now. Only ones. No more."

Ral frowned. Six? That was different to what he'd heard.

"I have dealt with the four in the base, but I heard words of a seventh. Do you know about him?"

"Keelah… Interrogator… dead now. Leader and human… only ones left. Dangerous. Explosive rounds… be careful…" the voice faded away, and Ral didn't know if his mission was revenge or rescue. Well. He had a new gun, a new tool, and knowledge of what he was up against. Anger burned in his chest, and his eyes set so wrathfully that even outside the mask his fury was obvious.

He pulled the salarian's corpse into the room, dragging it alongside his dead human companion. Blasting a shot from his new pistol into the ceiling, he waited for the last of the mercenaries with grim intent. His fingers traced his masks' new battle-scar. One way or another, it wouldn't be the only one he received. That was what separated the living and the dead, was it not? Luck. Nothing more nothing less. The cosmic lottery.

* * *

The two mercenaries weren't long in coming, drawn to the sound of his gunshot and the heavy smell of three species' blood. They saw Ral immediately, crouched down behind the kitchen bench. It wouldn't provide much cover, but it gave him a few seconds reprieve. He planned not to need them. The bodies of the salarian and turian were propped up near him, bloody and broken, but still useful. He had hacked their omnitools and rigged them to a slave network, giving him limited access. Now he engaged the both the turian and salarian's tools simultaneously, blasting the white-tattooed Turian's hand cannon with a double Sabotage. Already in the motion, the Turian's finger depressed the trigger, and the modded pistol backfired in a flash of flame, the gun itself flying out of his hands. The blast threw the pair of mercenaries off balance, and Ral fired up his own tool, overloading the leader's shields before he could recover.

Unfortunately for Ral, this turian's shields were leagues stronger than those of his slain compatriots, and even the combined force of explosion and overload failed to fully deplete them. He blazed through against the staggered leader, finally depleting his shields through sheer weight of fire, explosions and tech skills. Shocked out of his explosion-induced reverie, the turian leapt for cover even as his barriers dropped, but not fast enough to escape all of Ral's bullets. There was a single splash of blue blood, but the wound was shallow, only catching the Turian in the lower torso. It might kill eventually, but it wouldn't put him down right here and now. Hell, with medigel and combat fever, it would probably be an irritation at best.

But for the next few seconds, he was vulnerable, with only dead shields and thin armor to protect him. Against his first pistol, such armor was like an impregnable wall. With his new gun, and this close? Open season. Ral's smile was predatory, knowing that the turian was just behind a couch. And since when had couches stopped bullets? Unless you were on Omega, he thought distantly. Just about everything on Omega is probably bulletproof.

He sighted down the gunbarrel, lining up what would be the kill-shot. He pulled the trigger, and tiny mass effect fields sheared a chunk of metal off the central stack, accelerating it many times past the speed of sound in a fraction of a heartbeat. The tiny projectile flew down the weapon's barrel, touching open air on a direct course to slice cleanly through couch, light armor and finally vulnerable turian flesh. The gun didn't even jolt.

Neither did the human flinch as he threw himself in front of the flechette, the cuboid ricocheting off his barriers and into the ceiling. The human gestured, and a ghostly blue glow formed around his hands, snaking forward with the speed of a sprinting krogan, and infinitely more maneuverable. Ral didn't even have time to curse.

This time his gun did jolt, and Ral leapt aside to avoid the field, falling behind an overturned table. The pistol floated serenely through the air, spinning slowly as it neared the human's outreached hand. Ral cursed heartily. It would be a biotic, wouldn't it? He drew his second gun, the one that he'd had since the beginning. And the chances of that tiny piece getting through a trained biotic's barrier was minuscule The human had no kinetic shield to overload, only an impervious wall of biotic force. He didn't have a weapon for Ral to sabotage, unless he could somehow short circuit his bio-amp directly. Not a chance. The biotic grabbed the floating pistol and snapped it in half, discarding the useless metal casually.

The bald mercenary looked different from other humans Ral had encountered on his pilgrimage… simpler, more blank. Like there wasn't really any emotion. He didn't wear a helmet either, a safety risk even if his entire body wasn't surrounded with a nimbus of biotic power. The biotic turned absently and bent down to pick up his companion, revealing a massive, ugly scar down his scalp and a section of his head just… gone. Missing. Ral didn't think that he could have experienced any more emotion, but he was wrong. Disgust flowed through him; what kind of sentient race would lobotomize one of their own just to make a more controllable biotic? It was degrading, and, and… _wrong_.

He didn't have time to think as the human gestured again, and the table disintegrated beneath a rending field. The turian was ready with recharged shields, propping himself up on the couch with grim determination, looking down the sights of his second pistol. Unlike his panicked subordinates, the veteran was a precise shot, and Ral's prided shields dropped alarmingly swiftly. The Quarian broke into a flat run, scooping up the modded pistol as he sprinted for the cover of the corridor. He fired blindly back as his shields failed, the kick of the gun nearly ripping it from his hands as it overheated. The round caught the door as it descended, punching a gaping hole clean through the metal.

The turian and biotic gave chase, hesitating as Ral fired back over his shoulder, avoiding the deadly shots, allowing the doors to close to absorb the explosive rounds. The leader smiled, faceplates rippling in pleasure. He was well and truly in charge of the fight, dictating his terms on the irritation that had so effectively crippled his company. He stopped and halted his biotic slave, knowing that the panicked child had trapped himself neatly in the airlock, unable to leave. He had been listening as the recruit had reported this particular gateway inoperable. This was now a siege, and sieges, like all military operations, were what turians excelled at. The Quarian had a single weapon, his favorite pistol. His scales rose at the thought of another being using his precious gun, and he pledged that the irritant's death would not be swift.

Ral knew he was stuck. His own gun would barely scratch shields of the magnitude he was facing, and the modded pistol only had one shot before it overheated. Still, he knew just how to use it. The lone door that separated the warring combatants possessed a jagged, ugly hole, evidence of Ral's warning shots. As soon as the door opened, he wouldn't miss. But he didn't need to wait. He smiled as the red icon turned green, pointed the gun and fired.

All through the abandoned facility, drawing on the emergency power, alarms and red lights blared to life, long dormancy not influencing their capability for raucous noise and flashing warnings. Alone inside the interrogation room, Benis'Zaal nar Quib Quib watched as the connecting door slammed down, locking him in with only the two Saber helmets for company. All throughout the facility, bulkhead doors dropped, segmenting the base into contained airtight sections. Or it would have, if most of those bulkhead doors were not neatly perforated by the rounds of an explosive weapon.

Facing the blasted door, Ral watched and listened as the thin atmosphere outside sucked out the base's air, hearing it rush out through the broken interior airlock door, past the stuck half-open outer airlock door. Having opened up breaches in the failsafe doors, the methane air of the remote planet replaced the breathable air of the station, flowing harmlessly past Ral's airtight suit. His own air supply activated flawlessly, and he continued to breathe as the turian and human collapsed to their knees, trembling as their bodies demanded oxygen that simply wasn't there. The turian, on his hands and knees, tried to line up one last shot at the unshielded Quarian who had so effectively destroyed his squad piece by piece.

Ral kicked out the turian's gun hand nonchalantly, watching him sprawl against the floor. On second thought he stopped to pluck the pristine gun from weak fingers, saluting sarcastically as he went. He dropped his own, weak gun next to the collapsing dextro, spinning his new weapon idly on his finger. The biotic was already dead, collapsed in the corridor next to his leader and master.

Red lights continued to flicker on and off as methane continued to pour in through the breached doors, cleansing the station of any enemy still alive. The archaic systems were no match for a determined Quarian machinist, and slowly but surely Ral worked his way through the base's firewalls, inching closer to the main control room. He ignored chairs, blaring red lights and horns, leaning over the console and disengaging the lockdown protocol with a few quick keystrokes.

"Override accepted," the computer said out loud, while Ral's translator automatically kicked in. "Recorded as USER DELETED at Earth Date, 24 September 2182."

He stood straight and relaxed, closing his eyes and resting his mind for a few seconds. It was over. He'd won. Plus he'd picked up a new omnitool and pistol to boot. Perhaps the galaxy would be safer now, with one less group targeting Pilgrimage Quarians in existence. His exhausted mind turned briefly to his younger friends he'd grown up with on the Rayya, those that hadn't begun their Pilgrimages yet. Most had already begun their journeys, but there was one that hadn't. Rael'Zorah's daughter, Tali. He worried for her nearly constantly, doted on her like a sister. But Pilgrimages were difficult, and dangerous. She was to begin hers in less than a year now. He knew just how capable she was, but even so…

* * *

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts of nostalgia. Even if he had defeated the mercenaries, there was still Benis to tend to, if he was still alive. He couldn't open the door or else the atmosphere would suffocate him, but he could mend the breach with his omnitool. Once the patch was there, he activated the air cyclers, drawing good air back into the sealed lounge. Ral keyed the door, and Benis swiveled his head, the ghost of a smile on his pale face.

"Keelah, you actually… did it," he croaked, allowing his head to fall on the chair's headrest. Ral smiled behind his visor.

"Of course. Injuries and infections?" Zaal's face fell slightly.

"Both arms, one… hand, gunshot to… agh… left leg. Shrapnel to gut. Immobilization is good. Medigel and antibiotics were automatic." He tilted his head sideways, about all the motion he could afford. "They didn't want me to die too quickly," he rasped.

"Do you have a ship?"

"In orbit. I got it away… before I was caught."

"Good. Something you should see… this was what I could recover from the leader's datafiles."

There was a long stretch of silence, unfortunately silence of the heavy, oppressive kind.

"Keelah. They weren't lying."

Silence reigned again. Ral's face was as stone, impassive and forbidding.

"I have to go. This cannot go unopposed; the Fleet will be in danger."

Benis looked up at him like he was mad.

"That's needless. We can just warn the Fleet, give them advance warning-" Zaal's voice broke off in a fit of couching, rocking his body against the loosened restraints.

"And leave other Quarians to die?" Ral's voice was hard and cutting; unable to compromise. He broke off the restraints, picking up the injured Quarian and carrying him through the empty base, heedless of Zaal's calls. Ral laid Benis in the Saber shuttle's crew compartment, lifting off away from the abandoned mining base. He was a poor pilot, but he was good enough to at least get to orbit. He worked silently, patching Zaal's suit and visor, carrying him aboard his own ramshackle, aged corvette.

"Go to the Flotilla," Ral said, the first words that had passed either of their lips since their discussion on the surface. "Warn them. I'm going to stop them at the source."

"Where are you going?"

Ral's read turned, glancing back at the injured Quarian.

"Where their employers are. Omega."

* * *

_**Saber Company Analysis, Eclipse Archives**_

_Name: Saber Company Mercenaries_

_Founded: 2180, Omega_

_Leader: Ranarun Ursuul, Batarian_

_File Attached: Ranarun Ursuul Psychological Profile_

_Estimated Manpower: 10 Turians, 20 Batarians, 10 Salarians, unknown Asari and Human contingent._

_Notable Biotics: None/Unknown_

_Notable Actions: Gang-war with Goldstone Ltd, Human PMC, resulted in total absorption of surviving Goldstone personnel into Saber._

_Preferred Combat Style: Saber has shown a prolific use of sniper rifles, and heavy pistols in ranges where snipers prove ineffective. Limited assault rifle use has also been observed, by turian shock troops. Minimal explosive and shotgun support recorded. Minimal Biotic support observed, some technical staff and combat engineers identified in combat and logistics. Should conflict occur, deploy Vanguards for maximum effectiveness._

_Operational Specialties: Corporate security, Smuggling, Kidnapping, Extortion._

_Public Relations: Thought to be a subsidiary or splinter group from the Blue Suns, unknown relationship between the two factions. Numerous small rivalries with other small mercenary and PMC groups throughout the Terminus, none notable. Public opinion of Saber is virtually non-existent, but ambivalent on Omega, where public saturation is highest._

_Threat Level: Low. Despite relatively high standard of training for Turian and Batarian members, low manpower and operational diversity renders Saber a negligible threat to Eclipse operations._

_Action to be taken: Saber Comapny's state as a new group with limited ties to larger organizations may leave it open to negotiations for the purpose of making Saber one of our puppet corporations. Alternatively, psychological manipulation and planted evidence may be sufficient to turn Saber into an effective weapon with plausible deniability and zero risk._


	3. Pentateuch: Sodom

A/N: I do not own Mass Effect. If I did, the ending would not have been such a mess. Well, Bioware's built up a ton of trust with KOTOR 1 for me, so I can let it slide. Mostly. Third chapter, hooray! As far as update schedule goes, new chapters will be uploaded as I finish them. Which, for me, means about one every two weeks or so. It could be more, could be less. In the end, I just don't want to try and make a hard deadline by submitting a piece of waste. Honestly, what would you prefer? Wait a few days and get something good, or get something worthless quickly? Tell me in a review! :D

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**THREE: SODOM**

* * *

Life was, Teris'Vael nar Rayya decided, shit. Unequivocally, endlessly, horribly shit. Especially for Quarians. Especially for Quarians on their Pilgrimages. And finally, all life was worse than shit on Omega. Shit did not even begin to define the horrible state of existence that people here called 'life'. They were breathing, sure, but alive? Hah. Omega was a world of bigs and littles, and if you were littles, then you had nothing. No power, no ability, no possessions, and most importantly, no ticket out.

He was bulky for a Quarian, as much as anyone could tell under the concealing envirosuit. The red and cream material was worn and battered, marked with the ravages of fire, blood and talon. His armored limbs clacked quietly against his plated torso, covering most of his body in an interweaving mesh. The glow of his eyes were mostly hidden behind his pale visor, but not completely eclipsed. They were lifeless, without hope or purpose. Defeated.

Dalis'Zala nar Iktomi stood in the corner, watching Teris fiddle with some old, broken machinery. She could tell just by looking that it wasn't going to work no matter what he did, but she didn't say anything. Let him have his hour of diversion; it was a pleasant change to being called all manner of names and shot at every hour. They never should have come here, and never would have if they had known the levels of depravity concealed beneath the pretty lights. Dalis had thought the lights pretty when she stepped off the transport; now they were beacons, a tribute to her own stupidity. Now they were stuck, the two of them alone, struggling to stay alive. Just that took all they had; forget about trying to find a way off the diseased slag heap. She refused to think of it as home, even though they'd been stuck for nearly a full year now.

She blended into the darkness of the damaged apartment, slim black envirosuit only visible by its red highlights and white trim. Her tired eyes were invisible behind her golden-brown faceplate, ghostly grey replacement left sleeve oddly out of place against the rest of her suit, cloth that covered armor necessary for survival on Omega. If, indeed, she _was_ surviving.

The machine in Vael's hands sparked, and a plume of acrid black smoke spewed out. It held together for another few seconds, before falling to pieces. Dalis sighed again, and patted him on the shoulder.

"We'll be all right," she lied.

* * *

Meena'Ral nar Rayya appeared in a flicker of pseudomotion, decelerating through the relay and finally in sight of the monolithic mining asteroid itself. The piece-of-junk shuttle had done well to get him here; especially given Ral's piloting skills. He wrestled with the steering vane, tried to balance the tiny drive core while contacting the decrepit filth-pile itself for a place to berth. For a brief second, he thought he would lose the core, but it balanced and sputtered as he turned towards the red station. Just another near-derelict ship making for the Citadel of the Terminus Systems, like a hunter to wounded prey. Who exactly was hunter and who was prey was up for debate; Omega played the part of wounded, tragic figure well- until you stepped into her reach.

"This is MSV _Hoshi_, requesting docking berth and touchdown vector, over."

He waited for a few seconds, holding position outside the asteroid's weapon range. The radio crackled, and a human's voice came over the line. The man had an odd accent that Ral hadn't heard before, one that his translator didn't quite know how to handle.

"-uck, some…ne act...lly does this? Shit mate, just find a hole and shove 'er in." The human paused for a few seconds, and then broke into raucous laughter. "Prob'ly good advice for the whole fuckin' place, y'know? 'Fore it does the same to you!" The line sputtered and died, training off with the sound of the human's insane laughter. Ral stared at the dead apparatus, blinking in confusion. _What?_

So what he was saying that any open berth was somewhere he could land if he chose. That kind of attitude would have been fatal in the Migrant Fleet; any disruption to the regimented martial law of Quarians could destroy the fragile balance they were forced to sustain in order to live. He shook his head and directed the shuttle in, sending the lumbering craft in towards a vacant dock.

* * *

Dalis and Teris poked through the mounds of discarded trash in one of the empty docking bays, open to the wide abyss of space. They looked for anything they might be able to salvage or repair, carefully avoiding the edge of the bay where Omega's gravity petered out to nothing. One stray step and nothing would save you from floating helplessly until you starved or suffocated in the empty void. Even worse, Omega's gravity was precarious this far out from the station's core. If you were in the bay when the generators failed… well.

The two operated a small salvage shop for parts and tech, picking up work as hackers and low-level information brokers when Perrik had work for them. The work was hard, dangerous and didn't pay well, but it kept them going. Again, as it did every day, the thought came to Vael that they could sell the _Lystrani_ to pay their way off the station. But it was his pride and joy, the one good thing he had among the piles of refuse around him. But at the same time, the ship was the greatest torture he could possibly imagine. More precisely, having a ship but still no way to leave. Perrik held the codes to the ship, taken as collateral when they needed medicine to treat Vael's infection. Until they paid that debt, they were stuck.

"Mild sarcasm: How goes it, intrepid adventurers?"

The elcor's monotone voice penetrated the Quarian's private channel, and Teris held his tongue with difficulty. Perrik was wealthy, by Omega standards. At least, wealthy enough to hire bodyguards. He had provided them with the antibiotics to save Teris's life after he was shot by a red sand addict, but the price had been high. They knew they were being cheated; the services Dalis and Teris had provided over their months of indentured servitude had more than covered the price of the medicine. Even so, they had no choice. They couldn't fight, couldn't compete, couldn't bargain, couldn't find a way out. 'Debt' on Omega was a synonym for 'Slavery'.

"If you've got work for us, then tell us," Zala's voice answered, calmer than Vael could have been. "If not, then stay off our channel. We're working."

"With false magnanimity: Very well. Please contact me if you have any queries. Your work is valued immensely."

Teris clenched his three fingers into a fist. If the bastard could lie properly, he might have been able to tolerate it. With false magnanimity? The fuck? Asshole. Teris cut the channel entirely, touching his head to Zala's so they could speak even in vacuum.

"I still think we should just take the codes and go. We've paid our debt, haven't we? Catch him when he's alone, threaten to shoot him. Why not?"

Dalis stared at him, letting her silence speak for her. But this time, unlike the times before, Teris held her eyes, still asking the question. Dalis sighed.

"Because he's never alone. Because this is Omega. Because if we fail, he'll sell the _Lystrani_ and we'll have nothing. Because even if we get the codes, he'll hire someone to shoot us down before we can make it off the station. He disconnected the drive core, remember? We'd need time to get it spaceworthy first. Because we would have to kill him to be sure. We're on our Pilgrimage, remember? Whether you feel like it or not, we're still children. But if you think that you can beat the Krogan he hires and the gangs he supports with his information by yourself try it. We're little people, and he's not. We can't beat him."

The pair held eye contact for a moment, fighting an unseen war for leadership. Then one of the myriad blue lights in the distance grew brighter, causing the two arguing Quarians to shield their eyes and step back into shadow. A small Alliance shuttle glided into the stained metal hangar, taking up most of the free space. Silently in vacuum, the shuttle slowed gingerly, before the core cut out and the craft dropped the final five meters heavily. Vibrations of the impact rocked the greasy floor of the bay, sending the scavengers reeling. The side hatch of the shuttle slid open, and the two Quarians unconsciously huddled a little closer for protection. The unknown was hardly a welcome visitor on Omega.

Meena'Ral strode out of the dented, hissing shuttle, looking a little sheepish. But to find other Quarians as soon as he touched down, what providence. The hangar's automated doors closed and air rushed back into the fetid space.

"I… don't suppose either of you is proficient at piloting? Or Eezo engineering?"

The Omega veterans looked at the new arrival with something between incredulity and horror; the only question on their minds was what to do first: get off the blasted scrap heap or ask why he needed someone with such a precise set of skills.

"Wh… why do you need a pilot?" Ral looked at Teris.

"Well," he said conversationally, "I'm a poor pilot. So the drive core of the shuttle is about to unbalance and I assume that's bad?"

Dalis and Vael's eyes grew wide, and as one they grabbed Ral by the shoulders and dove for the ground, as the _Hoshi_ sputtered and kicked, sending a plume of exhaust flames roaring through the dock, scouring the walls with waves of blue flame. For a full ten seconds the fires continued to burn, before finally guttering out. The three Quarians regained their feet shakily, looking around them at the damage. One good thing about Omega, odds were nobody would ever know there had been an accident. The fires had actually made the disgusting walls, caked with ancestors-knew-what, cleaner, if such a term could still be applied at all.

"Your drive core was failing?! And you didn't think that it would be a big deal?!" Teris screamed at Ral, shaking him in hysteria. "Damn it Ral, you haven't learned any sense being out on your own? It's a miracle you're still alive! And then why, _Keelah why_, did you come to_ Omega_?"

Ral jumped at the use of his name, peered under the layer of hard-baked grime that coated the Quarian's envirosuit, looked again.

"Teris'Vael?"

"Oh, just now? You moron! The whole shuttle could have gone up; we were lucky just to get fire out the exhaust! Not only that, now we can't leave!"

Dalis placed a hand on Teris and Ral's chest, inexorably pushing them apart.

"Can we take this somewhere else?" Her voice was deceptively calm, but both men still shaped up and stopped their shouting immediately. The old friends eyed each other warily, before following Dalis's departing silhouette.

"Women," Ral muttered.

* * *

"Let's start with this," Dalis began, assuming the referee's position without argument. "Meena'Ral nar Rayya, why are you here?"

Ral bristled at the implication that he had come here erroneously. Then he deflated, reconsidering his position. "It's nothing," he said quietly. Dalis inclined her head in disbelief. To hear Vael tell it, Ral was an intelligent, skillful, learned Quarian with influential parentage, but that was all she could learn before he clammed up. However, she could make a few judgments herself, even if she had known him for a few minutes. He was a very poor liar. A soldier, not a diplomat. Furthermore, he didn't seem unduly worried at the thought of being stuck on Omega. Was he here for something in particular? Or perhaps he didn't care if he lived or died. Given the incident with the _Hoshi's_ drive core that was a serious possibility.

"Tell us." Dalis ordered, not a mote of patience in her voice, the same tone that had stopped the prior argument. Again, Ral capitulated. He sighed, opening up the datafiles he'd taken from the dead Saber mercs, recordings of the infiltration and firefight, and of Benis'Zaal's torture.

Much like Ral and Benis had taken time to absorb the information contained in the files, Teris and Dalis silently contemplated the implications for a few seconds.

"Shit," was all Teris could manage. Dalis, thankfully, was more aware. Disillusioned and beaten as they were, the concept of the Migrant Fleet in danger would propel even the most depressed Quarian into action. Effective action, unfortunately, required more than just motivation.

"Quite," she said dryly. "More important than your bowels, Teris, is where this group currently is. Given the data supplied we should be able to locate the facility without much difficulty, so long as we can cross-reference it with Perrik's information network. A few days at most. You may stay here in the meantime, Ral. Have you all your possessions from the shuttle?"

Ral nodded, placing his gun on the table and turning out his pockets. Anyone unfamiliar with Quarian suits would have barely been able to comprehend the sheer quantity of items Ral managed to produce from the myriad pockets concealed by the suit's design; for a people that depended on scavenging anything and everything it was an inordinately useful skill. There wasn't much that they could use; some credits, but mostly machine parts and personal effects. Teris grabbed the money, while Dalis trawled through Ral's data for matches in her own database. The voice originating from Omega was muffled by cloth or some kind of encryption; it would take time to isolate a full voiceprint. Omega's night cycle was just beginning. Plenty of time.

* * *

Teris leaned absently against the wall, shielding Dalis from view as she swept her omnitool across the building's window, taking a voiceprint from conversation inside. Comparing the two waveforms, one from Ral's data and the other from the voice inside, she shook her head. "Another negative," she told Teris. He sighed.

"Of course it was. We wouldn't be able to get close this easily if it were."

"The only other match we have is in Hama District. Do you think that's it?"

Teris shook his head decisively. "Hama is Vorcha territory. It must be outside our normal contacts. Not surprising, really."

Dalis steeled herself. "We'll have to ask him for his personal sources."

She could feel Vael's disdain even without seeing his face, and she shook her head. "We need to find them, Teris."

He grunted, checked his chrono, glanced up at the ever-unchanging lights that illuminated the station. "Too early for Perrik. We'll have to wait until he contacts us, should be another few hours. We should get back to Ral."

Dalis inclined her head. "You think he's gotten into trouble?"

Vael shuddered. Ral's impulsiveness and Omega's violent tendencies was not a combination he enjoyed considering. They'd taken his gun with them, ostensibly to bolster their firepower but truthfully to stop Ral from getting himself killed. Whether that would work was yet to be seen.

Dalis frowned as her omnitool flashed orange, beeping an incoming message at her. She accepted the call, routing it directly to her and Vael's visor to prevent bystanders from listening in.

"Guarded courtesy: It is a fine day, friends. Is there any service I might provide?"

Dalis look at Teris suspiciously; had Perrik heard of their investigations? Perhaps his hack of the Elcor's files hadn't been as flawless as she'd imagined. But they needed new leads.

"As a matter of fact there is. We need your personal files for a client of ours."

"Suspicious yet intrigued: I gave you no such client."

Again the two Quarians exchanged a look. No going back after this.

"We have our own clients, Perrik. We might owe you, but we don't work for you."

"Surprised and angered: Consider our partnership at an end. Smugly: I shall sell my ship now."

The call cut out, and Teris swore, punting a fragment of broken wall in frustration. So much on the line, and they had to get blown off by an elcor? It was embarrassing "Now what?"

Dalis shook her head, slowly walking sadly back to their ruined apartment. "I wish I knew."

* * *

Ral was still there when Dalis and Vael returned, cleaning the Saber Turian's assault rifle. The scavengers gaped, looking at the assortment of weapons that had somehow appeared in their apartment overnight. "I thought you already had all of your things!"

Ral glanced at Teris, before going back to working scorch marks out of the heat vents. "They belong to the dead mercenaries. Not to me. One assault rifle, three heavy pistols, including the one you took. Have we found a target?"

Dalis stared at him. One track mind was putting it mildly. Didn't he care that he was on his Pilgrimage? Supposedly still learning the rules? "Wh… what do you plan to do when we find them?"

Ral looked up seriously, but with a hint of confusion at the question. "Kill them, of course," he said simply. "What else should we do?"

Teris blanched behind his visor. "Murder them? How could you?"

Ral stood up, maintenance forgotten. For the first time, he realized that he had been alone in his intentions. "Not murder. War. Even if it were murder, the lives of refuse on Omega cannot be compared to the safety of the Fleet." His voice was cold, razor sharp. It said, if you will not help me, I will do it alone. Even if it costs my life.

Dalis shuddered at the conviction in the teenage Quarian's words. Was it really so simple? She stole a glance at her companion, Ral's childhood friend. He looked just as shaken. War. Death. Kill. The reality of what they had done in helping this man hunt dawned on them. They weren't looking for information. They were looking for living beings, and when they found them, they would erase them from existence. No compromises. Dalis had never before met a Quarian so aggressive. Teris was confrontational, loved simple solutions, but not decisive. Not aggressive. Teris was just male, she realized, making a mental note to apologize later. Ral was warlike. And, she shuddered involuntarily, he _enjoyed_ it.

And despite that, she would follow him. Ral had a plan. A way out. A drive that triggered something deep within her. She had lived without hope for too long, and the thought of relinquishing a chance to escape was abhorrent. Before she'd come to Omega she would have argued on moral grounds, on rational grounds, even if it cost her a way out. Now... Omega changed you. You just never knew until it was too late. Wasn't it better to follow one of her own than an amoral elcor? It had to be. _Had_ to.

"We looked at all but one of the matches we had; all of them were negative. We contacted our broker, but he cut us loose. We need a bigger footprint; otherwise we're only combing two or three districts."

Vael looked at her, surprised by the change in her attitude. "What if we fail?"

Ral focused the full weight of his gaze on his reticent acquaintance, stopping him from looking away. "We won't."

Teris nodded, but he still questioned. "But what if we do? I mean, we can't-"

Ral grabbed him by the chest, dragging him close so that their visors were almost touching. "Do you plan to fail?" He asked, dangerously quietly.

"No." Teris croaked, unable to meet Ral's eyes.

"Then what. Does. It. Matter." He propelled Vael back across the room, clutching his pistol in a vicegrip.

Finally, Teris too threw himself fully into Ral's hunt. "Can you use that?" he asked, gesturing at the rifle. Ral threw it to him with a shake of the head, and Teris aimed down the sights, trying to conceal the trembles as he imagined a live target in the scope. While Teris familiarized himself with his new weapon, Ral turned to Dalis.

"Tell me about your contact. Then, search the last possible match. I'll accustom myself with the area. We need to find this group before they disappear and the trail goes cold."

* * *

At the empty _Hoshi_, alone in its docking bay, the communication terminal lit up. "Hello, Saber."

* * *

**Project Oracle mail chain: Omega, 2178 (Systems Alliance Intelligence Agency and Ambassador Udina)**

_From: Project Oracle Leader - Classified_

_To: Ambassador Donnel Udina_

_Subject: Oracle Progress Report_

_Omega, also known as the 'Citadel of the Terminus' is the greatest known gathering of the worst criminals of the galaxy not currently incarcerated. Although the anomaly possesses a great number of amoral mercenaries, serial killers and veteran criminals, its distance from human territory and self-destructive nature results in a net-zero system. Given the chaotic nature of criminal alliances and pathology, we find it an impossibility that any number of groups would be able to take and maintain control of Omega's criminal classes for any substantial length of time. As a result, the inhabitants of the asteroid are self-destructive and unable to work effectively towards long-term goals. Due to operational hazards, we deem any action taken to destabilize Omega too dangerous to attempt, and unnecessary. In addition, a failed operation will undermine confidence in this agency, reduce ma power and potentially unite the warring factions against an outside enemy resulting in full-scale war in Terminus, leaving humanity vulnerable to further attack. For these reasons, we must reject your proposal to install a human leader to command Omega on grounds of idiocy. However, observation has begun with fifty agents planted in different location, as per standard adopted STG procedure. With regards to your support of the Agency, we shall keep you informed of any notable events should you request so._

_From: Ambassador Donnel Udina_

_To: Project Oracle Leader - Classified_

_Subject: Re: Oracle Project Report_

_Project Leader, I will not be spoken to in this manner. Transmit your name and rank immediately, and beginning the project in full immediately._

_ERROR: RECIPIENT NOT FOUND_

_RETURN TO SENDER_


	4. Pentateuch: Gomorrah

A/N: Omega sojourn, part 2! I really do love Omega. So many ways to land people in grisly deaths... It's great. Rules are only fun when you break them, right? Omega breaks all the rules. Anyway, please review, it's always good to have more feedback. As much fun as it is to write for the sake of writing, writing for the sake of improving _and_ the sake of writing is better! And as always, disclaimer. I don't own Mass Effect (sorry to break it to you). I do, however, own a very nice pair of pajamas. That is all.

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**FOUR: GOMORRAH**

* * *

Ral gave the archaic door a shove, feeling the walls tremble as the door finally popped open. Dalis and Teris were already there, lounging against the threadbare furniture in varying stages of depression. Two days after they had thrown off their old master, and all they had to show for it was empty stomachs and empty hands. Ral threw a plastic-wrapped data stick on the cleanest piece of floor he could find, stepping gingerly among the stains of unidentified matter. None of them wanted to investigate those further. "Happy nameday."

Vael rolled over, grabbing the package in confusion and tearing the wrapping away. All of a sudden, he grew still, looking up at Ral's impassive figure, looking down on him with crossed arms.

"This is…" He managed in a strangled voice, staring up at Ral as if he were some kind of miracle-worker. Dalis rose and made her own way over, snatching the data stick from Vael's limp hand.

"Keelah. Teris, this is… How did you get this, Ral?"

Ral inclined his head; to him it was a useless question. "I asked for it. When he refused, I became more… persuasive." This is Omega, he thought. If they are squeamish so easily, how will they be able to stop terrorists destroying the Migrant Fleet? They needed to be stronger.

Dalis was the first to recover, regaining a touch of the fire she'd finally found after nearly a full year of servitude on Omega, fire that a mere two days had nearly extinguished. She shook her head, downloading Perrik's personal files directly onto her omnitool. She frowned, looking at the data streaming from the stick to her tool. She tapped the holographic interface, bringing one particular file up on the screen. "Ral, is this…?"

"The key codes to the scout ship RSN _Lystrani_," Ral supplied easily. "The elcor was most happy to provide them, along with an assurance of his leaving Omega before the next night cycle."

Vael and Dalis gaped at him, speechless. Two and a half days after landing, Ral had solved all of their problems in one stroke. The _Lystrani_ reclaimed, complete control of Perrik's organization, removal of the elcor himself. Ral ignored their incredulity, indicating their new data. "How long will it take to locate our foes?"

Dalis looked closer at the torrent of information cascading through her tool, head bobbing as she counted. "Normally? Three days." She scowled. "But with the kind of software that bosh'tet was keeping under wraps? A few hours. Shorter if both Teris and I work together."

Ral nodded. "Do it."

Teris hesitated. "You didn't kill him, did you?" His voice was quiet, almost fearful.

Ral snorted. The elcor? Of course not. The idiot krogan attempting to protect him? Suffice to say that he didn't tolerate attempts on his life.

"I didn't. Let's go. We need to catch this group now, before they move. Do you have transport?" Dalis and Vael exchanged a look, Vael shrugging helplessly. An aircar was a luxury on Omega, at least if you were a good enough pilot to get to your destination without being shot down. It was the closest thing Omega had to a national sport; even if everyone wanted to be on the same team. Of course, those cars that did fly across Omega's sky were seldom shot down despite the best efforts of trigger-happy gunners from all levels of society.

But those cars were heavily shielded, armor plated. Robust skycars were as much a status symbol as the designer label clothing, custom heavy armor and excessively large gun favored by what passed for Omega's high class. Ral paced from side to side, watching Dalis and Vael stare at the ground like scolded children. One might put forward the argument that they _were_ children, he thought absently. No. They might be children, but they were on a Pilgrimage to become adults. Dalis swallowed audibly, and Ral raised an unseen eyebrow. He would have only heard that swallow if Dalis had actively decided to let the sound escape. A calculated sound, not a coincidence.

"Perrik had an aircar for his upper level people," she said, hesitantly at first. "We can take his." Upsetting the established order wasn't something most Quarians were used to doing, given the scarcity of Quarians in the galaxy. They didn't have the wealth of experience and contacts like asari and salarians, or physical prowess like turian or krogan. Even the humans, new to the galaxy, managed to swarm every inhabited system. 'Strength in numbers' was an adage common to every culture, and quarians were no exception. They simply couldn't take advantage of it.

Ral had never learned that particular piece of common sense. If agitating the waters got him to his goal, then to him it was the obvious course of action. Even if it made life worse for his fellow quarians; he simply didn't consider the repercussions of his actions. He nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Behind the opaque visor, Dalis smiled confidently. The two waveforms on her omnitool's display matched perfectly, and from there she had a name, from there a face, from there a location. Marcus Lucessi, former residence Elysium, current residence Tessi District. Perrik's networks were surprisingly good, far better than the elcor had alluded to in their dealings. She scowled again. They had thought him a terrible liar, but he had survived and even prospered on Omega for years. He might be a terrible liar as were all elcor, but it seemed they'd underestimated this particular elcor's ability to speak only parts of the truth.

Perhaps most importantly, the file even possessed Mr. Lucessi's favorite places of leisure, and Ral's eyes lit up when she sent him the file. Now Teris sulked behind the wheel of the aircar, adamantly refusing to let Ral drive after that catastrophe with the _Hoshi_. He jerked the car to the side again, avoiding another salvo from the exuberant gunners below. Unfortunately for him, Vael's choice was not so much avoiding one salvo but choosing which of the innumerable shots to be hit by. The car shuddered again as its shields took another heavy round, which Ral and Dalis tactfully ignored. Even so, Teris rounded on them with all of his nerves and anxiety.

"You think you could do better?" Another sharp bank right. "This is like- Ancestors!" The car dove nearly straight down, as a rocket swooshed by overhead. "Like flying through a rainstorm and trying to stay dry!" Dalis and Ral had long ago decided to brace themselves against the car's roof and walls, speaking over direct comms simply because the roar of engines pushed to the limit overruled normal spoken conversation. "Keelah!" The car jerked forward as Teris overrode the normal safety cutouts, as a torrent of fire poured through the space they had occupied only seconds before. Teris swore again, and it was like a dam breaking. Expletives poured forth from their pilot, as he eked every mote of performance possible from the tortured metal.

"This is way too fucking hot!" Teris yelled. "I have to set her down!"

Ral forced himself forward, peering through the chaotic windscreen, the dense material peppered with bullet impacts. "Do it. We're close enough."

Teris didn't wait another second, directing the battered aircar through a storm of small-arms fire, hauling it back on course when the occasional heavier rounds threw its once-streamlined nose off its line. The car crashed down on top of one of Omega's derelict apartment blocks, smashing through ruined walls and debris until it finally came to a stop, silence reigning after the cacophony of the relentless engine roar. The three quarians clambered out of the wreckage, shaking their heads to overcome the stunning effects of the crash.

Teris, sheltered by the driver's seat, recovered first, pulling Ral back to his feet. He body wobbled as he tried to stand by himself, but his eyes were clear and unflinching. Dalis surveyed the wrecked aircar, bronze amour buckled and broken, shield generator burnt out by Vael's overclocking. For Omega, that was a successful trip. She patted the big Quarian on the shoulder as he too surveyed the wreckage. "Well done," she said honestly. Vael glared daggers at her.

* * *

The Three Hump Camel was a popular bar for humans, and the overwhelming majority acted as its own deterrent to other species patronage most of the time. The beer was human-made and too bitter for most salarians, although elcor, krogan and batarians consumed it by the barrel. Or they would, had the Camel not been one of the strongholds of humanity in the Human-Batarian feud. Apart from its regular compliment of earth natives, the Camel boasted regular patronage for asari and krogan, in addition to the throngs of humanity. Asari because like all other species, the prospect of an amorous space-babe that slept with anything that moved was an enticing one to humans. Krogan frequented the bar simply because nobody was willing to stop them. Certain enterprising staff of the bar had hired some of the Krogan regulars as bouncers, who quickly shed the human title in favor of the Krogan equivalent, 'splatters'. As far as anyone could tell, a splatter was the same as a bouncer, they just used more force.

At the time of the bar's creation a few dextro drinkers had tried the meager stock of turian drinks, swiftly deciding that there was better booze and atmosphere elsewhere. Even so, it remained a popular spot for handovers and meetings, even for nonhumans. Grudgingly the bartenders had stocked a better detxro vintage, though really any kind of restocking would have been an improvement.

Marcus Lucessi nodded to the armed splatter at the door, who nodded back. The Krogan shifted his one ton bulk, revealing the entrance to the bar behind his mountainous frame. He carried a suitcase with him and a pistol on his hip, but the splatter wasn't unduly concerned. He'd have been more surprised if any patron of the Camel wasn't wearing a weapon, before swiftly relieving them of all of their valuables.

Omnitool scanning for matching voiceprints, Dalis strolled along the street, backed up by Ral and Teris. Vael's rifle was displayed prominently above his right shoulder, Ral's pistol centimeters away from his open hand. There was an ocean of noise around them, but quarians were blessed with acute hearing. They had to be, in their mastery of engineering. Sound was as important as sight, if not even more vital in discerning faults in dangerous drive cores. Their technology was the same, designed for optimum aural performance. Despite the storm of interference, Dalis registered a match coming from the nearly invisible opening behind a towering Krogan. Vael grimaced.

"The Camel," Vael hissed quietly. "The worst possible place."

Ral looked at him. "Then we wait for him to come out and follow him."

Dalis shook her head. "Not on Omega. All places like this have more than one exit, by necessity. We have to stay with him. And it's not him we need to follow, I think. It's the briefcase."

Ral looked at her curiously. "Why so certain?"

Dalis brought the voiceprint match back up, playing it again. Before he'd just looked for inflection and tone, but now they heard the words, or what fragments Zala's system had recorded. "They're torching their base and shipping out." Ral's horrified voice came quietly. "They'll be gone tomorrow. We need to get in there _now_."

Vael stared at Dalis in disbelief. "In _there_? The _Camel_? No way. Forget staying with the human, we'd last all of three minutes inside that place! No, we wouldn't even get past the splatter!"

Ral ignored him, striding forth to stand before the splatter, looking up into the krogan's craggy red eyes. "I have business inside," Ral told him imperiously. The Krogan grinned mirthlessly at him, inflating his chest and rising another six inches above Ral's head.

Ral didn't back down, instead angling his head uncomfortably upwards to continue his staring match with the gargantuan creature. The krogan's smile grew wider, revealing a row of massive teeth. Behind Ral Teris swallowed, drawing uncomfortable similarities between those teeth and tombstones. Refusing to be intimidated, Ral took a half-step forward, nearly touching the Krogan's towering chest. The Krogan's hand dropped to the grip of his shotgun, and Ral's pistol leapt into his hand, the black barrel nearly swallowed by the Tuchanka native's bulk. The krogan had chosen to be provocative. He could hardly object if Ral responded in kind.

Unfortunately for the quarian, he had misjudged his opponent's grasp on social convention. Or at least, what social convention existed for krogan. The shotgun disengaged from its magnetic clasps, and rounded on the trio of Quarians. For a few seconds, neither party moved. Then Dalis stepped forward, tilting her head at the splatter and Ral's intermingled forms in irritation. "Enough, Meena. You are dismissed." Ral disengaged himself, backing away at her order. He didn't know what she planned, but they had to present an organized front if they were to succeed.

"We have information for one of your clients. You will let us pass." Dalis remarked coldly. If Ral's imperialistic tone had provoked argument, Dalis'Zala's voice was like slivers of razor-sharp ice. Ral and Teris shivered involuntarily. Obediently, the krogan stopped smiling and sidled meekly to the side, the picture of submissiveness. She favored him with a second icy glare, just in case.

Awed, the two men followed Dalis into the dark opening, down near-invisible flights of stairs into the main floor of the Camel. "Women," the krogan muttered sourly as the men passed him. Ral silently nodded.

The dank bar had been hewn directly from the asteroid itself, and craggy rough stone had been left to form the wall of the rough circular room. The bar was directly fused into the dense rock, and most likely bulletproof to boot. Pillars of stone and metal dotted the unnatural cavern, providing shelter to a few huddled patrons. The light was abysmal, but the Rannoch natives had come prepared. Low-light filters came to life inside their visors, replacing the dank interior with bright green outlines. It wasn't as good as normal vision, but it was better than trying to peer through the interminable gloom.

Unlike most nightlife on Omega, the Camel didn't depend on asari dancers or pounding bass to keep its patrons. All of its regulars were human nationalists, glaring contemptuously at anything in an environment suit, anything scaled, anything hairless, ogling anything blue with a nicely-shaped ass. The quarian trio receded into the shadows, surveying the crowd of humanity silently. Behind their airtight masks, they spoke quickly, no noise escaping the pneumatic seals.

"How are we supposed to find a single human in all this?" Teris lamented. "All humans look the same."

"Look for the case then." Ral remarked absently, "Or just match the humans with recognition programs." He turned to Vael as a thought occurred to him. "You did take a record of the human with your visor, didn't you?"

Vael's silence was enough. Dalis cut off another growing argument with a glare, remarkably piercing despite the opaque visor, despite the low-light vision filter. At this point she wouldn't even need to glare, just threatening it was enough. Ral and Teris went back to searching the crowd immediately.

"Look boys, some bucketheads! Here to take what little we got, most like. We don't want your kind here."

The human was dressed in an odd blue material, bearded and red-faced, covered in grease and oil. He was plump and obviously well-fed, and Ral wondered in-between irritation and anger just what 'little' the human was referring to. His voice had started genial, but quickly descended into implicit threat. While it was true that quarians on their pilgrimage often found work as a result of their prodigious mechanical skills, which resulted in other species losing jobs, it came as yet another reason for council races to hate them. And since most Quarians were quieter and more retiring than the galactic norm, they were common targets of bullies of all cultures. But Ral was not most quarians. He squared off against the drunk human. Bosh'tet humans. Sometimes he just wanted to get happily drunk without risking a life-threatening infection too. Was that so much to ask?

"If you can't compete, that doesn't make me wrong. It makes me better than you."

The human rocked back in surprise, not expecting Ral's heated rebuttal. A pistol found its way into his hand. "Care to say that again, bucket?"

Ral hesitated, acutely aware of the dozens of humans in the dark cavern. He ground his teeth together, stepping back from the bully. "No. Don't worry, we have our own work. We won't bother you."

"That's right," the human strutted arrogantly. He turned and tottered back to the bar, leaving Ral clenching and unclenching his hands in an effort not to shoot the imbecile there and then. He stood like that for some time, concentrating all of his considerable will on staying perfectly still. Dalis interrupted his thoughts, cutting through the mire of fury.

"Found him. In a booth to the left."

The two men's eyes swiveled towards their mark, zeroing in on his face. Ral cursed quietly.

"Bosh'tet. He's handed over the suitcase. We need to find it!"

While Ral panicked, Dalis took control of the situation. Ral was an effective leader when everything went to plan, but when he was forced to improvise with no optimal situation, he floundered. Likely he would master himself soon, but that was too long. "Teris, stay on the human. Monitor his communications, contact us if anything come up. Ral, you and I are going after the explosives." She didn't give him a chance to sputter, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the bar, through the exit nearest their former mark.

"Where are you going?" Ral managed, unable to free himself from Zala's vicegrip. "The bomb will still be in there!"

Vael's mouth dropped. "You're _leaving_ me here?" He squeaked. Zala snorted at the fear in his voice. It was a quiet night for the bar, he'd be fine. "Stay in the shadows if it makes you feel better. Ral, we need to leave."

Dalis continued to drag him away. If they were to start from a standstill, Ral would have no problem overpowering Dalis. But she held his arm, twisted such that he couldn't stand properly, couldn't regain his balance. With momentum on her side, she hauled him through the street, lit omnitool leading the way. "We are looking for his contact," she said slowly, as if to a small child. "By the voiceprint he so kindly provided when Marcus contacted him for the handover."

"He's out here? Not inside?"

"Indeed."

Dalis finally let Ral go, and he stumbled slightly before he found his balance.

"There aren't many places suitable for a base near here," Dalis explained. "It would have to be on the edge of Tessi District, in the abandoned manufacturing warehouses. They've been deserted for decades."

Ral drew breath to speak, and Dalis jammed her hand over his helmet. "Quiet! He's reporting in!" she paused for a moment, staring intently at her omnitool. "Idiot. I'm amazed humans have come so far when they're this stupid." She shut down the transmission, and a data packet pinged on Ral's visor. The file expanded and superimposed itself over his vision, drawing a green line down the street, around the corner, towards the deserted manufacturing areas.

Ral and Dalis exchanged a look. "Let's go."

* * *

The squat structure rested on the edge of Tessi District, hunched over a cavernous fault in the asteroid. It dwarfed any canyon Ral had ever seen, do deep that blackness obscured the bottom. The sheer sides gave away its nature as a long-dead mining operation, ripping precious Eezo from the asteroid's valuable center Now, it was just a reminder that Omega's glory days had well and truly passed. All that was left were dregs, endlessly diluted by rampant criminality to the point of uselessness. Ral got the feeling that this had been a great place once, in ages past. He could stay; try to fight the malevolent tumor that had overtaken the lives of millions of people. But he hardened his heart to their suffering, and kept his mind on his people.

The existence of other species was inferior to the pains suffered by his people. Those on Omega had chosen to be there. The Fleet had been roaming the stars as nomads for centuries, still paying the price for their mistake alone and friendless. Hot rage in his chest welled up from its quiet burn, at the presumptions of those people that had cast them out and their petty concerns. The quarians had no _home_. No place for them to rest, no respite from persecution. And the hateful cycle continued, the wheel turning ceaselessly. Now Ral stood behind the oblivious human, Dalis creeping quietly behind him.

Ral drew his pistol, breathing silently as he stalked the human. The man, all his attention devoted to the explosive before him, noticed nothing. Dalis spoke through his personal communicator, her voice coming directly into his helmet so that the human remained oblivious. "Don't kill him!"

Ral hesitated, standing mere feet away from the human wiring the explosive. Even so, he still hadn't been noticed. Not that Ral could blame the human; knowledge that a single crossed wire could reduce you to vapour on the wind tended to monopolize one's attention. He hissed to himself, knowing that the airtight seals prevented any sound from escaping. A self-contained air supply worked wonders for stealth, even if it wasn't the intended use of the system. He took a second to glare back at his partner. Killing the human would simplify things.

"I want to be a scientist, Ral, not a murderer."

Ral gritted his teeth at the foolish sentimentality, but reversed the gun and slammed it against the human's unarmored head. The human crumpled immediately, slumping listlessly to the side. Ral had chosen to strike in the small moment when the human laid down his tools to wipe the sweat from his head, leaving the bomb primed but silent. With the sentry down, the way in was open. The facility door itself put up as much resistance as a volus in front of a starship cannon against the pair, and they were inside in seconds.

The facility was dirty and unkempt, but that was to be expected for Omega. Light flickered on slowly, illuminating several terminals against the far wall. Dalis flexed her fingers hungrily, and Ral made his way to the roof, pistol out. Their adversaries had chosen their position well; he had a clear field of vision to the nearby residential district, and he had no problem imagining the havoc a skilled sniper could wreak from this vantage point. As well the facility had been abandoned by the time they'd found it; trying to take it by force would have been a nightmare.

"Ral?" Zala's voice came through his omnitool, and he began to make his way down the stairs. "I've found the main computer. We're in."

* * *

_**Memo: Rise of Aria T'Loak (Matriarch Sarrasari to Melissi T'Kora, Asari 5th Fleet)**_

_One of the Huntresses on Omega has reported seeing a familiar face among the new arrivals. Aria 'Pirate Queen' T'Loak has resurfaced again, and her arrival will herald change for Omega. Her disappearance from the criminal underworld until now bodes poorly for the ruling order of Omega; it is likely that her extended absence was in order to organise her plan for usurping control of the nerve center of the Terminus. Subsequent reports from the asteroid refer to a battle between T'Loak and her predecessor, the result of which will, predictably, surprise none. Note that due to T'Loak's apparent meteoric rise in the criminal structure, criminal operations in the sector will be temporarily disrupted. However, after a short period of turmoil, Huntresses on Omega report that they expect criminal activity so sharply increase, reporting that they expect Omega's new overlord to rule extremely effectively. Please take care to adjust protocol regarding civilian proximity to Omega and distribution of military forces in the area, as well as shifts in expected pirate tactics. See the attached file regarding possible ramifications of Omega leadership shifts, as well as new difficulty in uncovering smuggling lines in the area. Be careful, Fleetmaster. Assume that Omega's criminal element will increase steadily in effectiveness over the next decade, conducting operations in a far wider theater than previously seen. Goddess watch over you._

_/FILE ATTACHED: T'Loak Omega Third Contingency_


	5. Pentateuch: Persecution

A/N: I'm not sure why I released all of these chapters at once. Wouldn't it have been better to keep a buffer of chapters in reserve if I started so slip? I could have bumped myself back to the front page, too. Well, hindsight. I'll survive. I don't own Mass Effect, but I suppose I do own my OCs? Hmm. So please review if you have a second, and happy birthday if it's your birthday. Hey, it's rude not to celebrate birthdays. Even if I don't know you. Go and hug someone.

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**FIVE: PERSECUTION**

* * *

"Data mine running." Dalis reported as Ral returned from the roof.

"Nobody nearby," Ral reported, voice lilting with satisfaction and relief It haunted him how close they'd come to losing this base forever, more than once. Only a few minutes more and there would have been nothing here but a towering inferno. He'd dragged the human and bomb inside the facility's entry hall, pulling him out of view of anyone who happened to be snooping around. Even so, they were going on borrowed time. Every second this building stood untouched was another second for their enemies to notice something was afoot.

Despite his satisfaction at the success of their actions, he couldn't shake the thought that everything was going _too_ well. He paced restlessly for a few seconds, before making his way back to the roof.

"Can you analyse any of the data as you copy it?" He asked, tapping directly into her helmet speaker. Two quarians could hold a complete conversation without anyone else knowing, sending their voices directly to each other's airtight helmets. When a quarian was heard, it was because they wanted to be.

"So far all I have are mining surveys, a few other emplacements in the Terminus Systems. Those bases might have more information, if this one does not."

"Who contracted the surveys?"

"Hm… a group called 'Terra Firma'. Searching the extranet… Terra Firma is a human group, privately funded. Covert. Lobbies in political circles, has strong anti-nonhuman ideals." She hissed in anger. "This is the group that threatens our home."

"Yes," Ral said quietly. There was nothing anything else to say. Every Quarian had such a fierce desire to protect the one sanctuary they had left; no words were sufficient to describe the protective desire that they felt, and the equally deep-seated wrath they had for those who threatened them.

"Ral. You need to see this." A file pinged on his omnitool, and he opened it, scanning the contents. Where the first files they'd pulled had been more inconspicuous, these were damning by comparison. Reports of the Migrant Fleet's movements, lists of troop and arms movements, status reports on covert construction, turning isolated mining platforms into assault bases; into staging points for greater offensives. The humans had been clever, ordering different components from different locations. The weaponry had come from the Turian Hierarchy colonies, materiel and vehicles from the Systems Alliance and Salarian Union. For a group that claimed to detest nonhumans, they certainly had the ability to do a lot of business with them. He continued to absorb information, piecing together the human's plan.

"Meena'Ral, Dalis'Zala, come in." Vael's voice came over their comm network, trying not to sound panicked and failing. "I've been monitoring communications as instructed. This came in a few seconds ago. Listen."

Vael's voice disappeared, replaced by a human voice among an ocean of static. "Merrick, come in. Merrick? Merrick, this is Williams. Come _in_, Merrick. Fuck. Sir, we can't raise Merrick. No explosion on the skyline either. Something's wrong. And there were Quarians in the Camel at about the right time." Zala's software automatically removed the swear, helpfully keeping the transmission strictly PG rated. She scowled. She kept forgetting to remove that filter; she'd heard everything there was to hear after a year on this benighted refuse pit. Did the Admiralty Board think they could protect their youths ith an anti-swearing filter?

An older, deeper voice came over the line, growling at the first speaker. "No shit, Sherlock. Break camp and ship out, we're going to investigate."

Vael's voice came over the line again, speaking hurriedly. "What do we do?"

For a second Ral was silent, scanning the horizon for incoming reinforcements. Dalis finally caved and asked for his advice as well, and he replied distractedly.

"Have we finished data extraction?"

The facility VI popped up on his visor; evidently Dalis had found something to do while the program ran. The holographic human was blue, with code running through his miniature body. It looked helpful, which was something he couldn't say about most VIs he'd encountered. "87% complete. Completion will take 115 standard seconds," it chirped. How Dalis had managed to get the VI online and subservient, he didn't know. But it was good if it meant that she could keep all of her attention on the task at hand.

Ral frowned. "Dalis. How close to you have to be to the computer to keep the uplink stable?"

Dalis hesitated. "I can't say for certain. I have to be close. Certainly in the same room."

Ral nodded. He still couldn't see the humans, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He abandoned his post on the roof, sliding down a ladder to the ground floor, near where he'd left the unconscious technician.

"Teris," He called, and saw his childhood friend open a channel. "Abandon monitoring their communications. Get back to the apartment and get the codes to the _Lystrani_. Dalis said it would need repairs before it could fly. Begin those. We will meet back at the apartment."

He hit the floor and moved immediately, dragging the bomb into the center of the facility. Dais hadn't idled since Vael's communication, activating what security systems she could. Camera feeds lined the newly-reactivated monitors, catching their first glimpse of the Terra Firma team moving in on the still-unexploded base. The VI hovered near her, handing multiple streams of information and formatting it into a useful form. Ral hunched down by the bomb, deftly plugging in a few wires, tapping on his omnitool.

"What are you doing?" Dalis asked, incredulously staring at the massive explosive. Her omnitool beeped. "Data extraction complete," the VI announced.

"They want this place gone. Now that we have the data, we also have no reason to allow it to exist. The blast will cover our escape." He accessed the bomb's trigger mechanism, inputting a ninety second delay. For a second, Dalis didn't quite understand what was happening, things were moving too fast. The bomb ticked from 90 to 89, and Ral grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the exit.

"Yes… yes of course," she stammered, finally realizing that the large explosive very close to her was about to explode, blowing the base to smithereens. She broke free of Ral's grasp, doubling back to grab the unconscious technician's arm.

"What are you doing?!" Ral yelled, casting glances back at the bomb every few seconds.

"You would have killed him. I saved him. I won't let him die because of my own apathy."

Dalis shuddered, remembering the chills that had shaken her body when Ral admitted to killing the elcor Perrik's bodyguard in cold blood. Sometimes she looked at him and all she saw was a demon. How could he kill so easily? Extinguish all life from a living being. Never see or smell or taste or touch or hear ever again. Separate himself so completely from them, by a thin layer of dirt and eternity. His eyes didn't shift when he spoke of killing, and even now Dalis trembled. He frightened her. Horrified her. And at the same time, she depended on him. Needed him. He had pulled her down this dark path and now she was lost without his guidance. And then, most terrifying of all, she had taken charge of the situation in the Camel, become more than an accomplice in his great, clever scheme to kill hundreds or perhaps even thousands of sentient beings She didn't want to. She didn't want to kill. But she didn't want to die. And she was scared that if she pushed away from Meena'Ral nar Rayya, her future would be nothing but an unmarked grave.

How had it all become like this?

* * *

Now she dragged the human behind her, clutching his wrist like it was a lifeline. She would save him, because she chose too. Because living on Omega and the hurricane of destruction that was Meena'Ral couldn't change her. Her hands were meant to create, study, to change. Not to kill. A scientist. Never a soldier. Alone in a sterilized room, divorced from the rotten universe out there.

* * *

35…

34…

33…

* * *

"We're clear of the epicenter " Ral grunted, waiting for Dalis to catch up with her limp cargo. "The humans should be here in a few seconds-" a round ricocheted off piling near his head, and Ral dove for the cover of an abandoned vehicle, diving through cover away from the facility, Dalis and the human in tow.

* * *

"Stop shooting you idiot! They've got a hostage!"

* * *

Ral grabbed the human and lifted his lolling bulk, shielding himself from the human squad's fire. Dalis called out, but Ral ignored her.

* * *

14…

13…

12…

* * *

"Marshal, this is Bennet; Tessi Facility is undamaged, repeat undamaged. Two quarians found inside, assume they have information of our plans-"

* * *

3…

2…

1…

Armageddon.

* * *

The bomb detonated. A roaring wave of fire blasted through the Tessi Facility, devouring walls, computers and the very atmosphere itself. The building exploded, sending plumes of fire snatching hungrily at anything it could find and devour. Debris rained down upon the humans and Quarians alike, rocking the very ground upon which they stood. More blasts ripped through the ground, and the noise of the bomb reached the small group. Ral and Zala's helmets sealed automatically, saving their sensitive ears from the brutal assault of the percussive wave.

The humans weren't so lucky. Most of them were wearing helmets, but the few that weren't wavered against the shockwave, before their eardrums burst and blood trickled down their necks. Ral's hostage and Zala's salvation succumbed to the rumbling roar of the explosion, dropping to the ground as blood spilled from his ears. If any of them survived, they would be deafened for life. The roar of the explosion passed, but sound moved far faster than flame. This far from the epicenter the wave of blistering fire was a fraction of its former strength, but it rushed through the abandoned district with the fury of a howling gale. Ral and Dalis stood steady against the blast, heat-retardant material in their suits stymieing the greedy flames. The blaze turned from its failure to pierce the vibrant environment suits, turning its red tongues on the ill-equipped humans. They rolled on the ground in panic and fear, desperately trying to extinguish the ravenous flames that licked at their bodies.

More blasts shook the asteroid, as the blast wrought its fury and set off other explosions in the nearby plants and assembly lines. These smaller blasts were imperfect, throwing equipment weighing hundreds of kilograms high into the air, raining down in a deadly iron bombardment. A great flue smashed into the ground like a titanic spear, cutting the two warring groups off from one another. More machinery and walls collapsed, threatening to crush the fugitives and hunters alike. Dalis reached dumbly for the bleeding human, but Ral swatted her arm aside and lifted her over his shoulder, sprinting from the burning complex as swiftly as he could.

* * *

It took them hours to return, making their ways through the dim Omega streets, slowly creeping through streets they'd flown over only a short time ago. Ral led Dalis through the streets, the stunned Quarian dumbly following his orders without a sound. Teris was already back when they finally arrived, dirty, disheveled and scorched. Dalis was all but catatonic, and Ral gently led her to her bed and laid her down. Finally, only when he had seen to Teris and the repairs to the _Lystrani_, did he allow himself to rest.

* * *

For the first time in days, Teris'Vael had no immediate purpose. Ral and Dalis were both dead to the world, and attempting to leave now to go to his ship would mean wandering the night cycle streets alone. Nobody did that fearlessly, and even the dangerous mercenary groups walked with caution once the night cycle began. Eventually he sat, pouring through the data that the pair had managed to extract from the Terra Firma base. He thought about waking Ral to ask questions, but hesitated. Ever since they'd met in their infancy on the Rayya, Ral had been driven and laser-focused. He chose a goal and pursued it with all his power, often disregarding everything he had on the way to his goal. Strangely, though, he never alienated Teris'Vael or Tali'Zorah, even if he discarded his other acquaintances.

He pondered the mystery that was Meena'Ral for the first time in years, having long since given up on understanding his rival even before their pilgrimages. Ral seldom failed in his pursuits, but often his next target would be something he had thrown away carelessly to attain his initial prize. He kept trying to hold everything himself, and he reached for something he dropped only to spill more on the ground. That was the other thing. He'd thought Ral too frail and soft to do the things he had done, but he had always possessed a deep, buried iron core that never wavered. Somehow, he had managed to bring that core to the surface, and Teris was saddened to think what his friend had sacrificed to become so strong. So brittle.

Now he remembered why he'd abandoned trying to understand Ral all those years ago. It depressed him just to think about it, and then even more when he realised that there was someone next to him enduring what was to him just an abstract scenario. One that he would never be able to help him deal with, or even understand. It was a result of Ral's mother's domineering nature, her demand for mechanical precision in every facet of life. Most Quarians took great delight in taking the name of their more successful parent, to the point where it had become a law in all but name. Ral hated his mother, highly placed thought she was, to the point of taking his father's name in defiance of tradition.

He shook his head, beginning to trace out schematics on his omnitool. Before he had descended into sleep, Ral had given Teris an idea, one that intrigued him to no end. He needed something to distract him, and the mathematics and engineering soothed his mind. He worked through the night, carrying on a silent vigil until his sleeping companion rose from her rest. Dalis stood silently, leaning against the wall. She looked drained, exhausted. Vael had managed to extract the story from Ral, and he felt a pang of sadness that he hadn't been there. He and Dalis had been each other's lifeline for nearly one year, alone on Omega together. It was a platonic relationship, but a very close one nonetheless.

He didn't say a word, tapping his omnitool and sending her the files he'd been pouring over for the night. He hadn't made as much headway as he would have liked, and in times like these, Zala needed a distraction to take her mind away from the horrific flame and flight. Neither of them said a word, just sat and began working.

* * *

Ral stirred eventually, recovering from the aches and pains his body bombarded him with. For a few moments he lay silently, absorbing the pain and accepting it. Once he had acknowledged his poor physical state, he pushed it to the side and sat up, enduring the expected weakness and pain and brining his body to full alertness. He would control himself, not pain or weakness. Pain was just his body telling him that components were damaged, just as a ship's diagnostics provided information on damage. A ship could operate with damage, just as his body could. Pain was just a message, one he could ignore if he knew it was coming.

Dalis and Vael were already awake, working on the little piece of technology he'd suggested earlier. Well, that was one thing he no longer needed to worry about.

"Have you sent a message to the Fleet warning them?"

Before he'd fallen asleep, he and Teris had analysed the mining surveys and spy reports on the Flotilla's position. If the Fleet continued its usual protocol, it would attempt to strip-mine those planets for valuable resources needed to repair ships and trade for equipment and credits. That was the trap Terra Firma intended to spring, ambushing the Fleet's vulnerable engineering and science teams, attacking the vulnerable Liveships with powerful anti-orbit cannons. Without a warning, the entire Fleet could be endangered.

Teris looked up at him curiously, and Ral cursed himself. Now he remembered. He'd drawn that conclusion, but he had been so weary that he hadn't even told anyone else before he succumbed to sleep. Idiot.

"Even if you wanted to send a message, it would be impossible," Teris consoled him. "The only way to send a message such a distance would be to use the FTL comm buoys, but they're out of action. There's a solar flare sweeping the system, and it prevents any message going out from regular buoys. Only one buoy is operational, and that one belongs to Aria. We don't have a fraction of the money that would take. And by the time the flare finishes, Terra Firma would have bought off the operators and control outgoing messages."

Ral hesitated. "We'll have to return to the Fleet and warn them in person. How is the _Lystrani_?"

"Not ready to fly yet. I'll need another day or so to complete repairs."

Ral turned to Dalis, who seemed to have recovered, at least for the moment. "Do we still have the tap in Terra Firma communications? We need to stay ahead of them. They will know that communications are blocked, and that we have no other option than to warn the Fleet in person. They must not find us until repairs are complete."

She frowned, opening a new window on her omnitool. "I still have it. All silent for now."

Ral nodded. "Keep it open."

Teris interrupted his thoughts, suddenly bolting to his feet, eyes locked onto his own omnitool. "Oh Keelah. _Keelah_. We're in so much trouble." He visibly trembled, eyes wide as he glanced back and forth at Ral, Dalis and his screen.

Dalis frowned. "What? What is it?"

Teris'Vael magnified the window, blowing it up for all to see. Pictures of Dalis'Zala and Meena'Ral, captured from a helmet-mounted camera from one of the humans who had survived the explosion. Underneath the two pictures was a figure, an address and a list of details. Ral felt his skin go cold, despite the circulation enhancements his suit provided. A bounty poster. Effective immediately, his head was worth enough credits to feed a family for two full months. Dead or Alive. Terra Firma was no longer their problem. Now, everyone on Omega was their enemy.

* * *

Ral injected some medi-gel, drawing out the empty vial and replacing it with one of their reserves. He couldn't afford to recover naturally. The tension flooded his system with endorphins, all thoughts of weariness falling away like a useless old skin.

Impotent anger and overwhelming sorrow battled for control of his emotions; there were few quarians on Omega and with such sketchy descriptions they would pay the price. He didn't want to think of the number of Quarian bodies the night would yield; and all he could do was endeavor not to be one of them. Any attempt to warn his fellows would only place a target on his own back. Alone he might have considered it, but he had Vael and Dalis to look out for as well.

"Teris, you take whatever equipment and supplies you need, repair the _Lystrani_. Work as fast as you can, do not leave the docking bay for any reason. Hardlock the doors; whatever is necessary. Nobody gets in or out. Dalis, you and I will keep moving to avoid bounty hunters, we will join Teris when repairs are complete."

"Couldn't we all just go and repair the ship?"

"We could, but even hardlocked those docking bay doors won't hold a determined sentient for long. Even a vorcha could hack those given time. If we are invisible, Teris will have too much attention on him to complete the repairs; there simply are not enough Quarians for people to ignore him. As painful as it is, we shall need to be visible enough to draw attention, allow Teris to complete the repairs without interruption."

Scarcely had he finished speaking before a gunshot blew out the lock on the apartment door, and a gaunt asari armed with a shotgun kicked the holed door down. Ral's pistol was in his hand in a heartbeat, shooting the blue biped before she cleared the door's wreckage. A biotic barrier shimmered into existence, blocking Ral's first shot, but not his second nor his third. Dark blue blood spattered the wall behind the new corpse, and Dalis began to tremble anew.

Ral lowered his pistol, grabbing food and weapons from their scant stockpile. "She was the first of many. We have no time. Go, _now_."

He shoved Teris out the door, thrusting weapons, tech and sustenance into his arms. He hesitated for a second, before dashing for the nearby bay. It was early in the day cycle, and he would be able to reach the _Lystrani_ unseen. As for Ral and Dalis, their path was made of thorns and blood. They looked at each other, and Dalis nodded, just slightly. She clenched trembling hands, stepping over the body of the dead Asari, away from her home, one way or another, for the last time.

* * *

_**Terra Firma Military Power (Systems Alliance Rear-Admiral Kahoku to Alliance Presidential Office)**_

_-Sir. As per your request, I have assembled the following dossier. I hope it finds you healthy and well. God bless._

_** Analysis of Terra Firma Military Capability: Abstract**_

_While chiefly a political group, as most influential individuals, the key members of Terra Firma do have ways of mobilising a substantial military force of their own, if illicitly. Through a combination of bribery, blackmail, extortion and the hiring of mercenaries (all strictly unofficial, of course) it is suspected that the political group could field at least two full battalions of soldiers, complete with state-of the-art equipment and vehicle support, perhaps even fully functional advance HQ facilities. This is, unfortunately, the minimum figure; given the strict anti-alien stance of the party and the quiet agreement in certain echelons of society they may have far more ardent supporters than simple voters. It is not a leap to say that the announcement of an anti-alien purge campaign would receive many volunteers, if not the type of men you would usually find in an Alliance Navy uniform. It is from these malcontents that racist groups, such as the group in question, form the core of their overall member base. Far removed from the smiling face Terra Firma presents to the public, the clandestine nature of the group's funding and hidden member base would put many a so-called secret society to shame. Naval Intelligence has attempted pings of Terra Firma propaganda machines, but no charges have been made. In the end, only one thing can be said for certain. Whoever the bakers of this group are, they are undoubtedly well-connected and extremely wealthy. I can only hope for moderation on their part; a false move could spell disaster for humanity in the galaxy. The combined wrath of the Council races is doubtlessly enough to wipe us from existence forever..._


	6. Pentateuch: Tribulation

A/N: I'm back! Yay! Writing is fun. So is study, but if only writing were my job. Well, here's hoping for the future. Anyway, enjoy the story, please review (I'll be your best friend) and above all, have an awesome day! :D

Special thanks to iNf3ctioNZ for putting this story on his favorites list; it means a lot to have a legend take notice of my work. Thanks mate!

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**SIX: TRIBULATION**

* * *

Shrapnel showered over the pair of quarians, and Meena'Ral nar Rayya jerked his head back as several shots found his shields, pounding him like mallets. The trio of vorcha snarled their fury, two of them abandoning their guns, sprinting forward to finish the job with claws and teeth. At first, the plan had worked brilliantly. Both he and Dalis could be unobtrusive when they wished, and they'd drawn the pursuing mercenary forces into vorcha territory behind them. The creatures had swarmed the mercenaries, missing Ral and Dalis in the confusion. For a glorious half-hour, more mercenary teams followed them into the labyrinthine maze, only to be cut apart by the sheer numbers of the defenders.

Eventually, though, the mercenary commanders had gotten wise and stopped sending their men in. With no other intruders, the vorcha had begun to find them, one group at a time. A bounty hunt was different from a standard military engagement, where the winner was the one left standing in the end. In a bounty hunt, the winner was the one to _reach the assessor_ with the mark. How they got it was irrelevant. It didn't make any difference to the hunters whether the bullet that killed them was mercenary or vorcha, just so long as they got the corpse in the end.

Ral reached to the side and shunted Dalis'Zala nar Iktomi in the shoulder, bumping her out of cover, hearing within a second the last vorcha gunman track his fire onto her. Dalis squealed in alarm and shrank back into cover before her shields deteriorated. Ral took advantage of the distraction, resting his pistol on the ruined wall that served as cover, squeezing off a staccato triplet of shots. The volley punched through the vorcha's bare torso, dropping him easily. The remaining two vorcha, still running as swiftly as they could towards the quarian pair, snarled crude insults at him.

He'd seen this pattern before. In the last few hours, he'd killed dozens of vorcha this way. Always drawing off two or three of them, picking them off one by one. But there were always more to deal with. Hiding out in vorcha territory had kept the mercenaries and bounty hunters off them, at the cost of being ambushed by the idiotic predators every half-hour. At first it had been a simple matter to gun down the near-mindless brutes, but he was getting tired. Worn out. Missing shots. Dalis had been nothing but a burden either; using her to draw off enemy gunfire was cruel, but he'd tried everything else. She was like a vegetable, never speaking, just obeying his whispered orders without question.

As the two vorcha closed to melee distance, Ral gestured, firing a globule of superheated plasma from his omnitool. His Incinerate had always been a weakness, but the last few hours had provided an inordinate amount of practice. The lead vorcha collapsed screaming, flames engulfing his body. In seconds, he was still. The final alien berserked and leapt for him, catching two more shots to the face for its trouble. Ral leapt to the side, and the flying corpse crashed heavily to the ground beside him. He hissed as the gun overheated on the final shot, his numb fingers losing their grip on the gun as it vented pure heat. He flexed his fingers, trying to force some feeling back into them, as another Vorcha, hiding in the ruins for the Quarians to let their guard down, leapt at Ral, tackling him to the ground, slashing at him with lethal claws. The claws slashed parallel gouges through Ral's chest armour and nearly through his suit entirely before he could even comprehend what was happening.

Desperation gave him new strength, and audacity gave him a way out. He smashed his head forward, headbutting the creature in the chest and pushing it back. He managed to get a leg free, shoving the vorcha off him, scrambling to his feet. The wiry alien leapt to his feet far more athletically, snarling in poor Basic how he was going to kill the two of them slowly. Before the vorcha could gain an advantage, he threw a hard punch at the creature's jaw, feeling the long, needle-like teeth break under the impact of his armoured fist. The blow barely shook the creature, and despite its bleeding mouth its struck back, sending its five razor claws at Ral's face. Ral's heart sank. He had needed to finish the fight with that one punch; Quarians might be as strong as any other race, but their suits were fragile and easily torn by sharp attacks. He'd been lucky the first time; he wouldn't get such luck again. The five claws would shatter his visor, slash deeply across his face, and he didn't have the speed to escape in time. Not after hours of fighting for his life.

Dalis suddenly rose up, kicking Ral's leg, causing the quarian to stumble and fall backwards, the razor claws catching nothing but air as Ral fell backwards. He hit the ground hard, breath escaping his lungs, suit undamaged. Dalis snatched Ral's pistol, rose, and fired it into the Vorcha's face from point-blank range. Blood spurted everywhere, across walls, the ground and Dalis herself. The dead vorcha collapsed to the ground with half a face, and Dalis silently stood over the corpse, shaking, firing shot after shot into the dead body until the gun overheated, still pulling the trigger futilely, holding the gun in both hands in an attempt to stabilise herself.

"Dalis! Stop! Keelah, Dalis, he's dead!" Ral rose from the ground, heaving air back into his lungs, grabbing the gun from her hands. The moment he touched her, the sound of her screams, trapped by her airtight suit, flowed across him, and endless wail of anguish and fear. He took the gun from her limp hands, as she collapsed to her knees and wailed silently. Ral caught her as she fell, hugging her close.

It was her first kill. He remembered the feeling, when he'd shot a Batarian who'd tried to rob him. He'd only meant the shot as a warning, but he'd missed. The bullet had taken the batarian's upper left eye, killing him instantly. Now he held her as she sobbed, having finally broken through her shock only to kill with her own hands. Dalis knew it had been Ral or the Vorcha, and if she was in the same situation she would make the same choice again. But the heat of the gun, the horrible nothingness, was worse than she could have ever imagined. It was like she'd killed a part of herself, a part she'd never have again.

The two of them lay there for some time. All the vorcha nearby were dead, and no more emerged from the wreckage. We need to get out of here, Ral thought. Dispiriting as it was, they were on their last legs. They needed more time, needed to survive. They were low on medi-gel, low on energy, low on food. The location of their apartment was listed in the bounty poster; going back there would be nothing more than a fancy way to commit suicide. They had no other friends, no allies they could trust with such an incentive on their heads.

As he held his sobbing companion, a small smile broke out on his face. No, there _was_ such a place. "Dalis," he said softly, bringing her out of her weeping, if only for a second. "We have to go. I know a place that's safe. Quickly now, before more come."

* * *

Safe. At least for now. Ral and Dalis sank gratefully to the floor, out of sight. In the end, the one solution to their problem was in an old enemy.

"Ancestors, I'm hungry. Any food?" Dalis asked.

"Not really. A decent amount of medi-gel though, so it's worth coming here for that alone. I don't think people will find us here, at least not for a while."

Dalis looked around the room, a blanket taken from the opulent sleeping corner draped around her shoulders. It wasn't cold, but she needed the comfort. Bullet-holes lined the walls, and there was a scorch-mark in the shape of a Krogan burned into the wall. Blood liberally covered the bathroom, of all places, but any bodies had long since been consumed by marauding vorcha. "This place used to look so nice," she murmured.

Ral winced inwardly. It had been a nice apartment, but Perrik and his bodyguards hadn't been forthcoming with the information he'd asked for. So he'd dropped a Sabotage on one krogan, causing the mercenary's shotgun to explode when he pulled the trigger. He'd finished that one off with an incinerate, causing both the scorch-mark and the smell of charred meat. The second of the Krogan bodyguards had been fortuitously in the bathroom at the time, and he'd made the (quite literally) fatal mistake of leaving his gun outside. When he'd emerged, there had been a smiling Quarian standing in front of him, holding his own shotgun. A quick overload, followed up by the shotgun's entire cooling system, and even the massive regeneration of a krogan hadn't been enough. His own fault for modding it with incendiary rounds, really. The Elcor himself had caved nearly instantly afterwards, when the barrel of the shotgun was pressed to his head. Ral had checked; he'd been on the evening shuttle to a smaller criminal hangout, Peragus.

Still, nobody should think to look for them here. From here, it was just a matter of timing. They still needed to give Teris'Vael enough time to finish the repairs, and hopefully, the other project as well. He checked his chrono, long since synced up to Omega time. Four hours. If Teris was still on schedule, four hours was all the time he needed. But the more they escaped pursuit the more attention Teris would draw. It was a delicate balancing act, to keep the attention on the two of them without taking enough that they couldn't handle it.

"Get some rest," Ral said softly, probably the softest tone he'd used since this all began. "And… I'm sorry for pushing you out of cover those times." He looked away, unable to justify his actions now that they were out of combat.

"You really pushed me out of cover in the middle of a firefight?" Ral hesitated, and then nodded. Dalis leant back on the couch, evidently there for visitors only. Elcor had no need for couches. "Keelah. I don't even remember that. I'm sorry for being such a burden." She sat upright, but with her legs drawn up protectively to her chest. She held them there with her arms, and the blanket covered her entire body. She still shivered periodically, but she was present. That was better than the last few hours, ever since the bounty announcement went up, really.

Dalis pulled the blanket a tough tighter, spoke hesitantly. "What are we going to do now?"

For a second, Ral said nothing, lost in thought and planning. "For the moment, lie low. Wait for the search to expand, the mercenaries to spread out a bit. Right now they'll be running into each other left right and centre, and given the calibre of Omega citizens, I'd be surprised if a lot of those meetings didn't end in bloodshed. They're doing our work for us."

Dalis relaxed, fell onto her side. She couldn't handle more running and fighting, not now. Ral steeled himself to deliver the bad news.

"Then, after we've rested here for a few hours, we'll leak our location to some of the mercenaries."

Dalis sat bolt upright. "We'll do _what_?"

Ral told her the plan he'd hatched with Teris while she'd been in shock. It didn't take long, but Dalis wasn't a fan. Ral grimaced. To be honest, he wasn't a fan of the plot he'd dreamed up either. But none of them had been able to come up with any alternatives, not with the resources they had. Eventually Dalis gave in, convinced there was nothing else they could do. She sat quietly for a moment, thinking, before tossing the blanket aside. "Which mercenary group do you plan to leak to? You know that these groups have more holes than someone trying to steal from Aria, don't you?"

Ral tilted his head at the odd metaphor, but ignored it. Omega would do that to you, he decided. "I'm counting on it, actually. As for what group, I was thinking Eclipse."

Dalis mulled it over thinking out loud. "Less manpower than the Suns or the Blood Pack, but they have mechs to compensate, probably still our best bet. I agree."

Ral leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "We're going quiet for a few hours, then" he mused. "Was there anything interesting in the data we took from the base in the warehouse district?"

* * *

Teris'Vael nar Rayya put down the welder, grateful for his suit's climate control. It was stressful work, and it was incredibly tempting to divide his attention, and he couldn't afford that. The only thing he could do was pray his locking encryption on the doors were good enough, and that the few working cameras he'd hacked would give him enough warning of attack. The _Lystrani_ was finished, finally. Once again, fully spaceworthy. His pride and joy, once more his baby. It had taken him a while; all of them knew that Dalis would have been able to do it in three-quarters the time it had taken him. Teris had even volunteered to be out on the streets while Dalis repaired the ship, but Ral had shot the idea down immediately. The pictures of the bounties were clearly a male and a female, and neither of them could imitate Dalis'Zala's more feminine characteristics.

There was still one more job left, though, and half an hour until the time he'd given Ral to carry it out. As if on cue, gunfire burst out near Perrik's apartment, where Teris guessed the two of them had bunkered down. In that case, this was his chance. Doubtlessly every bounty hunter or would-be mercenary was headed there now, looking for the big score. Teris unlocked the door, slipped out of the docking bay, and crept along the bays until he reached the _Hoshi's_ bay. Unseen, he slipped inside, and left the bit of technology Ral had asked he prepare with the shuttle. It wouldn't fly until someone had stabilised the drive core, but for Dalis that should ne problem.

The relentless gunfire continued, covering his retreat back to the _Lystrani_. Re-locking the door and sealing himself inside the ship, he dropped heavily into the pilot's chair, finally able to relax. The rest was up to Ral and Dalis.

* * *

Twenty minutes previously…

Ral's chrono beeped and he stood to his feet. One way or another, this would all end soon. Hopefully Benis'Zaal had managed to get back to the fleet, and then this whole charade would be for nothing. The thought might have demoralized many, but for Ral it was peaceful. It meant that whatever happened now, it didn't matter so much. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he stood a little taller. Even so, they had more details, specifics and all the Fleet needed to counterattack. It might not mean as much, but it was far from pointless.

"Remember, as soon as they arrive, we go to closed circuit comms, tight-beamed. It will only work on line-of-sight, but they won't be able to listen in."

Dalis favoured him with a piercing glance, her first since shooting the vorcha. Ral almost smiled. Her omnitool glowed to life, and she stood. "I know. I suggested it. Ancestors, I just want this to end."

Ral shrugged mentally. Not the most powerful pre-battle quip, but it would have to do. She opened the modified voiceprint, having subtly pieced bits and pieces together to make it sound as if the call was coming in from a human. In seconds, it was away.

The shooting started five minutes later. The windows along one wall blew out simultaneously, the so-called bulletproof glass obliterated by overwhelming automatic fire. The supressing fire continued for a full five seconds, keeping both quarians pinned on the floor. As soon as it stopped, Dalis raised her visor above the windowsill, not enough for a sniper to get a bead on. "Four Eclipse troopers, clustered around the second intersection." She spoke over the normal communication system, as they'd planned, before shifting over to the tight-beam. Unlike regular communication systems that broadcasted in a radius, tight-beam comms were an archaic communication system that streamed data directly to the recipient. It didn't even work if there was a simple wall in the way, making it all but useless in the modern communications industry. It couldn't be encrypted, but unless you were directly in the transmission path, it was undetectable. Eclipse would hack their regular comms in minutes, but never discover the tight-beam. In theory.

"I've got them," Ral grunted, hoisting one of Perrik's weapons onto his shoulder. The Elcor had never been able to use them, and Ral was more than happy to appropriate his armoury. His visor tagged the location Dalis had specified, before he could even see it. He grinned. He'd never fired one of these before.

Ral rose from a crouch to standing in a second. "Eat this, Bosh'tets!" And jammed his finger down on the trigger. The explosive warhead blasted out of the missile launcher, carving a thin smoketrail through the twilit Omega sky. Before any of the Eclipse troopers knew what was happening, the missile slammed into the ground between the four of them, and blew them all to hell.

* * *

"Mother of _fuck_!" one of the Eclipse troopers yelled, watching his comrade's flaming demise. "They've got a fucking rocket launcher!"

* * *

The blowback shot Ral halfway across the room, nowhere near prepared for the massive recoil of the launcher. His armour took the force out of the impact, and he was back on his feet in moments. "You got them all," Dalis replied, sounding nearly sick. The four troopers were all down, all but one of them in multiple pieces. Whatever warhead Perrik got for his rockets, it was devastating. Dalis rallied herself, tagging the other Eclipse troopers as she saw them. "Was that the only rocket we have?" Silently, she prayed it was. She couldn't deal with another one.

Ral shrugged. "There are more, but I don't know how to reload this thing. Besides, I doubt we have the time for a second shot, with all of them fanning out now." He drew his heavy pistol, and Dalis did the same, hesitantly. From outside the shattered windows, they heard the telltale sounds of combat mechs unfolding and preparing for battle. Ral smiled behind his visor. Perfect.

He should write a book. First rule of fighting Quarians: unless you have something special in mind, never send mechs against them. Ral and Dalis both popped up out of cover, using the high-ground to their advantage. Each one shot off a burst of data, and the lead two mechs shuddered. Then they turned around, raised their submachineguns, and opened fire on their creators without a second's warning. Chaos reigned as the hacked and unhacked mechs began their battle royale, preventing any Eclipse troops from getting any closer. Of course, the mechs Ral and Dalis had hacked were outnumbered and quickly dispatched, but in the time it had taken to finish them off Dalis had converted another mechanical soldier to their side. Ral was a touch slower, but he too corrupted another mech's IFF, quickly turning the organised line of LOKI mechs into a roiling mass of spare parts and sporadic gunfire.

The quarians picked different windows to hack from every time, frustrating the Eclipse snipers trying to pick them off. Still, such constant high-power use threatened to fry their omnitools, and after their third pair of mechs were overwhelmed they had no choice but to attack the two surviving LOKIs with pistols alone. Realising that their quarry was out of rocket shots and drained of energy, the eleven unharmed Eclipse troops rushed forward, towards the apartment building entrance. Ral cursed. If they turned this into a fight in the stairwells, it wouldn't go well for them. They needed to hold off Eclipse until-

One of the Eclipse sniper's heads exploded in a shocking shower of gore, the remainder of the Sur'Kesh native's body falling to the ground with a bloody splat. Eclipse troops immediately went to ground, looking for the sniper. Ral and Dalis saw him instantly, of course, behind the Eclipse position. A turian in Blue Suns armour, looking down the scope of a menacing rifle. Another crack of gunfire, and an asari joined the salarian sniper in death. Retaliatory fire came now from the Eclipse mercenaries, before a ten-man squad of Blue Suns formed up on their sniper, assault rifles blazing as they charged the wounded Eclipse team. Blood flew left and right in all shades of the rainbow, and the gurgling screams of dying men and women cut through the bass beat of bullets with piss-inducing effectiveness.

Total, utter warfare between two mercenary groups. The only way Ral could get both he and Dalis out without being shot themselves.

"The Blood Pack should be along soon," Dalis remarked quietly, averting her eyes. Ral nodded. "We're leaving."

One of the few things he really appreciated about Omega was the multiple exits to every building on the station. Paranoia kept people alive here, and Ral was all too happy to profit from the nerves of another. The two of them escaped the building, leaving the gunfire behind them as they ran for the docking bays.

* * *

Timing was everything. They needed to have held off the mercenaries long enough for Teris to complete both tasks, or they were dead. If they lead the mercs back to the bays too soon, then the repairs wouldn't be done and they would all die. Too long, and the mercs would see their ploy and cut them off, preventing them from getting to Teris and his ship. "Run!" he urged Dalis, sprinting for all he was worth. Mercenaries behind them fired wildly from the hip as they chased, ut they never had time to line up proper shot and the Quarian's shields stopped the few lucky shots. Careful plans and meticulous timings were irrelevant now, the die had been cast. They couldn't delay the mercenaries any more, and if they waited around for the barest of seconds they'd be given a free lead lobotomy.

They were close now. Were they really going to make it? Had they done it perfectly, everything to plan?

Of course not.

Bullet sparks kicked up all around their feet, and Ral yanked Dalis into a narrow alley before the rounds could find their flesh. "We have to go through them!" Ral yelled, drawing his pistol. Dalis slammed him back into the alleyway, stopping him from rushing out. "Not a chance! There are five of them out there and no cover for you, not to mention the ones behind! If you still had that missile launcher, perhaps! We need to go for the _Hoshi_!"

An agonising second passed, and Ral cursed. She was right. If Teris had gotten it into position, they might still live. If not…

He threw out an incinerate to provide a distraction, sprinting away with Dalis for the _Hoshi_'s docking bay, away from both groups of mercenaries. Mercenaries and bounty hunters chased them every step of the way, and would doubtless have caught them if not for fights breaking out between rival groups. Killing off your competition was arguably even more important than killing the mark and so Ral and Dalis stayed a step ahead of them as they raced through the streets.

"It's there! Go!" Ral reached the docking bay door first, entering the password to open in seconds. As soon as Dalis stumbled inside, exhausted and barely able to stand upright, Ral slammed the door shut and locked it as best they could. These doors were so crappy that there wasn't much he could do, but he did his best. The _Hoshi_ stood there, unmolested, and Ral leapt for the pilot's seat. "Dalis! We can make it! Get in and let's go! Keelah! Dalis?" He was out of Dalis'Zala's sight so he had to use the normal communication system, but what did that matter now?

Dalis had sunk to the ground in exhaustion, and he leapt out of the shuttle, dragging her along the ground as she struggled not to throw up from the punishment she'd put her body through. As Ral neared her, he saw the door was being hacked from the outside. It wouldn't hold long.

* * *

Thirty seconds later, the rusted blast door groaned open, and a torrent of Blue Suns mercenaries flooded the bay, weapons up and triggers half-pulled. The spaceside docking bay was open, and Omega's atmosphere immediately rushed out into space. More blast doors slammed shut outside the bay, responding to the hacked door's failure to close. The rush of escaping atmosphere stopped, and they saw it. The _Hoshi_ had risen from the ground, wavering in place. Gouts of eezo-blue flame sputtered from the exhausts, and the mercenaries dove to the sides to avoid the searing jets. They opened fire without hesitation; the shuttle's shields taking the hundreds of rounds badly as the Blue Suns mercilessly pounded the craft's flanks. Galvanised by the gunfire the _Hoshi_ accelerated, flying out into open space. Still the ramshackle shuddered and sputtered, moving torturously slow for a spaceship.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright flash of flame from the shuttle's exhausts, nearly instantly extinguished by the vacuum of space.

A word came over the mercenary headsets, from the Quarian's channel they'd hacked. "Keelah, no!"

Then it exploded. There was nothing but a single blinding flash.

The _Hoshi_ collapsed in on itself, cracking into innumerable pieces as its drive core unbalanced catastrophically, imploding in a single nanosecond. The shuttle simply failed to exist; a single piece of crushed metal, scarcely bigger than a man's head was all that remained. Crushed in an instant under the enormous gravity of the dying drive core.

Meena'Ral nar Rayya and Dalis'Zala nar Iktomi were dead.

* * *

_**Bounty Hunters and Mercenary Groups (Systems Alliance Reconnaissance Officer Training)**_

_**Deep Space Recon/Sabotage Lecture 2**_

_"What you need to understand, cadets, is that the mercenary and the bounty hunter are two different entities. Although they may seem similar, the ethos behind the operation of these groups is vastly different, and thus different approaches is required to gain sway over the two types of beings. Mercenaries are semi-corporate beings, with an effective system and defined rules, even if these rules are seldom unbroken._

_"On the other hand, Bounty Hunters will work alone most of the time, and frequently have ex-military or ex-police backgrounds. They generally employ more experimental or personalised equipment, be it weaponry, tech devices or modus operandi. Keep in mind that if you end up matched against a Bounty Hunter, anything is possible. I've seen bounty hunters fly on prototype jetpacks, firing weapons I've never seen before or since. In comparison, mercenaries will engage you like a generic military unit. They'll try to flank you, snipe you. Mercenaries are easier to deal with, especially if you have prior knowledge of your foe._

_"Keep this in mind as well: although both groups work for profit, it is not uncommon for the hunter to have a code of honor that only they understand; usually based off the rules of the hunt as the individual interprets it. Either way, all bounty hunters are extremely dangerous, as they must be to survive alone in a galaxy full of intensely organized criminal syndicates. Use every advantages against these beings if you have the bad fortune to fight them; survival alone is the goal."_

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger! Probably mt first real one of the story so far, and it feels both horrible and great. Hehe... What do you guys think? Are they really dead? Who knows? At any rate, there are still a lot of loose ends to tie up; THIS ISN'T THE END OF THE STORY. Far from it. There's so much left to tell, and in the short term, loose ends to tie off! What happened to Teris and the _Lystrani_? Will the Fleet survive? The Epilogue of Pentateuch [Silence] is coming within the next few days! Please favorite and review, more love means faster hands across the keyboard! See you all soon~


	7. Pentateuch: Epilogue

**A/N: I don't often do this, and perhaps I should, but I'd like to recommend a fic on this site that is better than any definition of greatness. It was the fic that made me change my belief that fanfic was 100% crap, and it is the sole reason I'm writing here today. Today it ended, and I feel like shit with grief and sadness. The fic is called Mass Effect: Interregnum, by The Naked Pen. It is better than anything I could ever do, and I cannot do it justice here, even if I had fifty thousand words. Please, read it.**

* * *

**PENTATEUCH**

**EPILOGUE: SILENCE**

* * *

One by one, the squad of Blue Suns mercenaries lowered their rifles, looking out at the crushed wreck that had been the fugitive Quarian's escape ship. The squad leader, suit VI recording everything he saw, contacted his commander.

"Sir? It's over. They're dead."

"I've been watching. Return to base. While it will be impossible to recover the bodies, this recording will be evidence enough of their death. Well done, second lieutenant."

* * *

Out of sight, out of mind.

Meena'Ral nar Rayya and Dalis'Zala nar Iktomi held their breaths, waiting for the inquisitive head to poke around the massive doorway and end it for good. Both of them stood on the surface of Omega itself, magnetic circuits in their boots adhering them to the iron-rich asteroid surface. From just outside the docking bay they had watched as the unmanned _Hoshi_ flew out of the docking bay, lasting only seconds before the unbalanced drive core had crushed the shuttle to oblivion. If it hadn't been for Teris, none of this would have worked. Ral and Teris had been rivals for years until their pilgrimages had separated them, and there was only one area where Teris could consistently beat Ral, piloting.

As Ral and Dalis fought mercenaries all over the district, Teris had snuck in to the Hoshi's docking bay, fitted a camera on to the front of the ship and rigged it to a slave system. The simple system linked the Hoshi's controls to a remote, one that Teris could operate safely from the _Lystrani_. It had been a simple matter to deceive the mercenaries once everything was in place; as soon as Ral opened the spaceside door, he and Dalis would leave the bay on foot, hiding from the mercenaries on the asteroid surface.

Meanwhile, Teris flew the Hoshi out of the bay, driving it in a straight line forward until the drive core collapsed, crushing everything inside. With no evidence to collect, they would be reported as dead. Quarians were in their environment suits wherever they went, which made it easy to forget that the suits were perfectly spaceworthy. Containing a small amount of breathable air, any Quarian was ready to spacewalk onto a ship's hull to repair it at a moment's notice. The mag-boots, like the air tank, was a necessity for spacewalks, and so were installed as standard practice on all suits, even those of minors.

Ral and Dalis waited until the great doors slid shut, before Ral gave an immense sigh of relief. As much as he hated to admit it, the constant fighting and running had exhausted him, to the point where he could barely raise his arm to pull the trigger. Beside him, Dalis sagged, visibly relieved. She had fared even worse than Ral, and she needed to grieve. Despite living on Omega, she'd managed to retain some of her innocence. Until Ral had come. In the last few days, she'd escaped from an exploding warehouse, and killed for the first time. She needed to grieve, and finally she would have the chance.

One wayward move in space could send you floating off until you suffocated or starved, so by necessity every action was slow and rehearsed mentally. Carefully stepping one foot at a time, the two quarians walked around the asteroid, making the relatively short trip to the _Lystrani's_ docking bay, where Teris waited. Since Ral and Dalis had been the only ones of the bounty posted, none of the mercenaries had ever realised that there was a third member of their group.

By the time they arrived Teris had already opened the spaceside doors, and the two quarians carefully lowered themselves into the bay until Omega's gravity steadied them. Still breathing from their suit's supply, they stepped soundlessly into the ship's open airlock, as the ship's typically Quarian sensors spent an age systematically destroying any bacteria they had picked up. Given that this was Omega, it took quite some time. Eventually, though, the inner airlock door opened, and they strode wearily into the ship proper. Safe at last.

Teris greeted them as soon as they cleared the airlock, switching out of their suit's ever-decreasing oxygen supply.

"I wasn't sure you'd make it," he said quietly. He briefly hugged Dalis, and shook Ral's hand. Both of them were on the verge of sleeping standing up, the adrenaline that had sustained their flight drained away leaving only bone-weariness. "Get some rest. I can take it from here."

Dalis nodded, and trudged tiredly to her quarters. It had been a long time since she'd been on a Quarian ship, but she knew it like the back of her hand. Ral wavered, but then steeled himself. "I'll sleep once we've cleared the relay," he managed.

Teris understood the need to see it finish for himself, so he led Ral to the bridge. With ease borne of long practice, the _Lystrani_ rose easily from the deck, and flew gracefully out into space. The Quarian scout ship darted through space with magnificent grace, a rare quality for a ship of the Migrant Fleet. But Teris was a skilled mechanic, and he loved his craft. It might have been a relic from the Salarian Union, but under the hand of a skilled Quarian it moved like it was brand new.

In minutes, the ethereal blue glow of the Mass Relay eclipsed all else, and without a single glance back at the station of sin, the _Lystrani_ vanished from Terminus space.

* * *

"We'll be back at the fleet in fourteen hours. At the moment they're in the Valhallan Threshold, pretty far away from, well, everything really."

Ral nodded tiredly, stumbling towards the bed Teris had assigned him. Thoughts whirled in his head, Terra Firma, Omega, Saber, the Migrant Fleet. He's been running on impulse and adrenaline for so long that he'd nearly forgotten how to unwind.

What was he doing, somehow coercing everyone with a gun to want his head? It was a miracle he was still alive. He recalled a human saying, one that he hadn't understood until now. '_There are no atheists in foxholes'. _For what reason was he still alive?

It was hard to believe that there was nothing out there but the empty void.

The Pilgrimage was to bring children into the world of adulthood? It had succeeded. He'd ended lives on a whim on Omega, a far cry from the boy who'd cried himself to sleep after his first kill. Was that what the Pilgrimage was meant to tech, then? What it was supposed to accomplish? To turn children into soldiers.

If this was adulthood, he would rather stay a child forever. Better to think that this was a game rather than kill for survival. But that wasn't an option, was it? On the other side of the room, turned away from him, Dalis cried, and suddenly he knew why. Not for the vorcha she had killed. For herself. But men weren't allowed to cry, to weep. His father had, though. Just before he went on that mission he never returned from. He'd said something before he left, too._ The girls do well to cry_, he'd said. _What world but this have I ever known? It was no virtue not to mourn._

The floodgates broke. He didn't care about shielding himself anymore. What his purpose was, what he had to do in this mortal coil, it could wait. Now it was just the two of them, wounded in a way he didn't know how to deal with. The two children cried themselves to sleep, one who thought himself strong, and one who knew her weakness and continued ahead anyway. Ral envied her freedom.

Ah, so that's what this is, he thought… the death of innocence.

* * *

_**Missive to Turian Hierarchy Primarch's Office**_

_Sender: Cabal 7 Leader_

_Subj.: Migrant Fleet Analysis with regards to Firaxen Treaty_

_As per your request, we have attached an analysis of the Quarian Migrant Fleet's current military power. However, since the Quarians are not a Council race, they are not bound by the Firaxen Treaty as the human Systems Alliance will soon be. Furthermore, due to the difficulty of infiltrating the Migrant Fleet, any information gathered by our Cabals should not be treated as 100% accurate. Quarian mastery of technical systems makes it virtually impossible for anything to successfully siphon data, while the impossibilities of inserting a live operative or turning a Quarion should be obvious. While we believe that the Migrant Fleet's fighting power is at relatively low ebb, contacts within the military shipbuilding industry suggest that the Quarian Liveships could support Dreadnought-class weaponry if necessary. As a result, making an accurate judgement of the Quarian naval power is possible, although it may be overturned in a matter of days should the Admiralty Board choose to send the Liveships into battle. Given the necessity of the Liveships for the Quarian people to continue producing food and providing living space, this is a low-probability circumstance. Please see the attached profiles of the current members of the Admiralty Board._

_It is my opinion that the emerging Systems Alliance is a far more pressing concern, and that your fears of the Quarian people using the emergence of human colonization along the fringes of the Terminus to reclaim their ancestral homeworld of Rannoch are unfounded. However, observation will continue as per your orders. _

* * *

A/N: Well, the first part of Spearhead is now complete. The Pilgrimage is over, Omega in the rear-view mirror, and all is right in the world. Except it's not. After all, there's still the Flotilla to save, right? Really, Pentateuch can be considered a prologue to the story as a whole, which begins now. Next time: new characters, the first mission, _Insurrection_, begins soon. Look out for it! As always, please review/comment/whatever. Seriously, it would really help me, haha.


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